This whole description thing will come later...

Until then, here are some snippets...

...late March of 2018, my world changed drastically and in the fog of a scolding shower and a near fatal brain infection, I knew that it had to be done, finished, molded as it sat, and sent to one of the world's finest Zen teachers; Bill Hader. Know this, sir, that despite what may begin in some roundabout nonsensical madness, it all comes together in the end. I think... Shit, maybe it doesn't at all...

..."Look, man... Over in these Middle Eastern Countries, there is an epidemic of animal fucking. Bestiality! These fucking brown savages shave the body hair of donkeys, goats, sheep, dogs, whatever they can get their dirty hands on, and even use illusory magic in the contour of hair-shaving to mimic women's curves... But worst yet, these animals are birthing the most abhorrent and freakish monsters with little human faces. Giant undulating larvae with cheek bones and dead Angelina Jolie eyes...

...and as I walked thru the parking lot, I was approached by a mildly-attractive piece of White Trash in short shorts, thick tan legs barreling out, short brown hair pulled back, and she smelled like cheap cigarettes and peach perfume. She walked right up to me and asked, "Are you married?" Of course I am, but as I'm separated, I just sort of stepped away from the question. After some laidback discussion, she asked me to drive her to the liquor store and bring her back. I had taken several heavy swigs of wine at that point in the day and, being the alcoholic that I am, I obliged because the liquor store is only about a mile off. On that short drive, she expelled some things: (1) She currently lived with her cousin, who had tried to have sex with her, and just as awkward, his wife was "fucking crazy." (2) She, my passenger, had Brain Cancer. (3) She writes poetry, and happened to have just written a poem about a humming bird only yesterday. She then started singing the goddamn poem as loud as she could on the way back. As we pulled in the parking lot of the library, she, without hesitation, opened and downed the entire bottle of brandy that she bought. Well, I say bought...

...I can feel the bugs crawling on me, not the South Carolina critters, but the bugs of psychosis. The fecal matter has transformed to a physical overcoming. Bugs, goddamn bugs! I'm about to rip off chunks of my goddamn flesh! I may eat it... Be like the bug-eating lizard...

...what a horrid reality. I awoke with so much promise, blended half a grapefruit, some lemon-flavored Creatine, a banana, and half a can of coconut juice, but that healthy endeavor wasn't enough. Not after the night of booooozing and celibacy which I endured, only to pass out miserably and wretched. I've entombed myself here in this apartment as one would have been left in the catacombs with the worms. I drove to Allisanna's house and left on her doorstep a bottle of her favorite wine, a box of Valentine's Day Candy Corn for her to share with the children, and a card which I filled out last night, slammered drunk. What I wrote, I cannot remember... I then went to McDonald's for a bag of greasy death petulance. Hangover Food. While there, I was eye-fucked by a teenage girl with large brown eyes and a New Wave haircut. She should have been training on the drink machine but she just kept staring at me and licking her lips. My god, she couldn't have been older than sixteen. Maybe seventeen. I will tell myself that she was eighteen because it'll be easier to cope with for some reason... And when I left, I felt disgusted with myself as if I'd done something wrong, something evil. I couldn't help but think I'd had those eyes many times before, and my dear wife had seen them staring at other women. I wanted to bash my head into the hood of my car until it was covered in my own brains and blood and skull fragments, right there in the thick of the After-Church-Mcdona