se7en

Even assclowns have their rights. One of these rights is to toot their own tunes by their own rules with all legitimate means at their disposal, as I have done for seven years. It’s not a life path I would recommend to everyone, and marking the anniversary whilst recovering from ass surgery is poetically just, but the precedent of ponderous saddle-sore quinquagenarian Jan Sobieski galloping three miles to tear the Grand Visier a new asshole at the gates of Vienna will keep me going, broken and sound, thick and thin.

“Grief is a species of idleness, and the necessity of attention to the present preserves us, by the merciful disposition of Providence, from being lacerated and devoured by sorrow for the past.”