Ever wanna just bury your head in the sand and say fuckitall? Then maybe hideaway in your underground bunker and just play videogames, watch art house movies about existentialism, play your guitar, write tortured poetry in a jumbled journal, listen to ambient music on a repeated loop, draw disturbing images in an unused sketch pad, record random stories of your past life regressions with a digital voice recorder, grow a grizzly beard, and at some point simply die alone in a puddle of your own piss and fecal matter because you couldn’t be bothered to give much of a damn about anything else anymore?
Yeah, that was me for a day this past week. So glad it’s over.
-B.
Lost Signal 