ty

You know I'm only in it for the gold.


All that I am asking for is ten good dollars, and I could pay you back with one good hand.


I have no respect for the kind of life I am living.  On the other hand physically I'm doing better, enough to do some cooking and jogging. 

Don't you taste hard liquor, just a cup of cold coffee.  Going to get up in the morning and go.

Like a field of sunflowers, a good poem should require no explanation.

Where is my money coming from?  The Mechanical Turk isn't going to do it.

I feel like Kafka's Hunger Artist, only with considerably less morals.  But the jogging is waking me up, and the stretching is worth doing.