First thing's first: I hate you all. Second: I don't care about all the mischievous bullshit that slides so eloquently from the mouths of evening news anchors. Third: Unless my sources are wrong...I'm pretty sure God is dead; victim to "special treatment" while interned at GitMo.
Though I wouldn't doubt that this is the greatest city in this puss-infested planet, I must say... it also just may be the nexus of the sociopathic universe. There are just too few hours in the day to explain how psychotic this place can be. Walking down 6th avenue on a Friday or Saturday night is reminiscent of a heavy acid-trip gone very wrong. Though I try and equate my utter horror to whatever intruding substance is pumping through my veins, this proves erroneous. Try as hard as I might, I keep coming back to the fact that all the nonsense surrounding me is actually real. Real to this city.
In the wonderfully welcoming mad house, we all stand the shackled, quivering masses. Slaves to the grind, prostitutes to the culture, and troglodytic golems... a sorrowful state of affairs called out by the swollen-tongued beaureaucrat with the skin of some small Malaysian child pinned to his lapel. And yes, this all may be some pure pedantic bullshit from a fellow inmate in the Manhattan Clinic for the aimless. A prophet once said that this is a doomed generation; too bad the youth is one check behind that. So now what, you may be asking ye of little faith and inspiration. How the fuck would I know? I guess we all just have to take a deep breath, and accept the fist-fuck enema that New York has to offer.
Now if you'll excuse me...I need another drink.
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