But listen. Stop trying to pretend that you can live in New York and have this overly successful life based on writing alone. It’s a cruel joke! It hurts my feelings! You have to be poor as fuck because every writer, including myself, moves to NYC and feels oftentimes homeless. A good day is when you don’t think ‘maybe I should cook these garbage rats for sustenance’ and a great day is ‘i have 35 dollars I’m going to finally be able to eat something other than canned beans and Four Loko.’ YOU MAKE NONE OF THE SENSE, BRADSHAW.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Astrolabe
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I was lost in a valley of pleasure
I was lost in the infinite sea
I was lost and measure for measure
love spilled from the heart of me
I was lost and the cost
and the cost didn't matter to me
I was lost and the cost
was to be outside society
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