writing my imaginary fuck you letter to a recent client this morning, I had an epiphany. I'm through. Done. Finis! The struggle to avoid losing what little I have, a roof over my head, is simply too enslaving. I'm tired of people pretending they are giving me a gift when they want me to give my labor away for free. I have decided to chuck it all and, as I'm going, I'm going to have fun on the way to the homeless shelter.
"You know how it is, come for the animal porn, stay for the cultural analysis." -- Michael Berube
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