You did not notice me ignoring you did you?

It has been for some time now that I have left you without knowledge of my circumstances, without tales of debauchery and the like that make the static days of your life seem to pop like a bag of microwaved popcorn.

My own head is like that bag of popcorn.  Though the serotonin  I have left in my brain is more like the dead kernels one finds at the bottom of the bag than the fluffy popcorn suitable for human consumption.

So it has been a while since we last spoke.  Do not think that it is some random time that has passed and we have not conversed.  On the contrary it was with great purpose that I have left you to your own devices.  To see you slither through the hallways of life with your head down and your arms protectively covering your books.

I, on the other hand, have been slowly sinking into an abyss that I will not quickly be rescued from.

I awoke this morning (and by this morning I mean afternoon) to a bedroom covered in the paraphernalia of my destruction.  A bottle of Raid insect repellent, (spilled: it's red juices now defacing my computer chair cushion), a 1 liter bottle of lighter fluid poured into a cristal glass, a Vick's inhaler, my computer screen stuck at reddit.com/jailbait, a package of extra polar ice gum, a bottle of lubricant for masturbation, the empty baggie where once was placed my final stash of ecstasy pills.

One would think I would wake to staggering headache.  I did not.  My head is fine except for a sluggishness of intellect which I expect you deal with naturally most everyday.  It goes unremarked by you, so let us cease to speak of my fogginess.  I have spell check to alleviate the most pernicious effects of the holes developing in my frontal cortex.  I have no idea what allows for you make it through the day, save God's grace that intelligence was not highly selected upon by evolution for survival.

I ran out of toliet paper four days ago.  I now fret before any bowel movement because of the added step of showering after releasing the putrid diarrhea dripping from my bowels.

What else have I been up to?

A few days ago I purchased 3 (24) packs of beer.  The beer cost me on $7.99 each 24 pack.  It was a great deal.  I got drunk enough on the beer.  Though not as drunk as the school aged skater boy that found himself in my apartment.  I have his skate board still.  The last I heard of him he was in the hospital.  I presume he is okay.  I left him on the side of the road and quickly disappeared.  Just so you know I called 9-11 for the poor boy, his eyes rolled back in his before he could thank me.

You see? I am not completely lost.

My latest million dollar idea is to develop a television show that purports to be a morally ambiguous  Twilight Zone.  But in reality I will use the fictional guise of the show to push my agenda of misanthropy.

The main character will be like the devil.  He will argue for the (incorrect?) position when it comes to things like suicide.

That would be the pilot episode.  A man considering suicide.  You will think of course that the Bill Bixby like loner character is there to save the suicider, but you will be wrong.  He will be there to offer support for suicide.  He will make elegant arguments about the meaninglessness of life.  He will set up straw man arguments for living.  He will demolish them.  He will show the ambiguity of the depressed person's life on others.

The case will be difficult.  It will not be obvious which choice should be made.  Perhaps we fade to black just as the gun's nozzle recoils.

Other shows will feature why being selfish is better than helping others.

Excuse me for not adding additional episodes.  Every time I swallow I get the delicious taste of lighter fluid nasal drip.  This causes an involuntary shudder that effects the tip of my penis is a strange manner.

Have you ever seen videos of ball crushing?  Women in high heels crush and step on the exposed genitalia of their cuckolded prey. Last night I understood for the first time the extreme pleasure that can be found in the crushing of one's penis.

I think that the Vick's inhaler gives special powers to my dick. As I feel no pain whatsoever, and the amount of abuse given to my penis is only matched by the damage to my pre-frontal cortex from huffing on whatever chemicals I could find last night.

Perhaps I should buy whippets as I hear they are less dangerous than gasoline.  But at this point do we care any longer?  Aren't you happy to see me go off the deep end finally?

My stomach is empty but I can not get out the gargled taste of lighter fluid from my mouth.  I think that means I will skip lunch.  A planned meal of two cheeseburgers and chips.  3 glasses of unsugared tea.

The cheese burgers are homemade. I am using frozen patties with a 73% fat content.  I have generic buns.  Tiny, they are made for children it seems.  Red onion, lettuce, mustard.  I am out of pickles.  The chips are strips of tortillas that I have deep fried.  I have no salsa.  I do have cheese wiz if the mood strikes.

I showered twice last night.  But it was not enough.  I am unclean.  The sticky mess of multiple shits is my life now.  I am traversing  this world without toilet paper, without so much as a sanitary napkin.

I am blowing my nose into the same towels that my roommate dries himself off with.  I am inserting assorted cooking utensils into various parts of my body to test the fecal content of my dishwasher.

Somehow I am still alive.  My ingrown toenail has long since moved to gangrene and the dead skin around it shrinks to a blackened hue.  The rest of the toes is swollen unnaturally from all the blood running to it.  Sometimes for fun I poke at it and watch as the blood drains into the shower.  It runs for for 5 minutes at a time.  I can poke it six or seven times before I get bored of watching the blood drip down.  Like Norman I see it all in black and white.