Please, Lord, don’t make me have to be interesting today.

Received a lovely message from T. yesterday. “Dear Michael, thank you for this thoughtful note. I admire your work, and it’s nice to hear from you.” Had to wonder, though, who is Michael?

Everything I’ve lost, I want back.
Except for the bad parts; those you can keep.

Active language receptors, but no coherent brain function.

When I was about ten years old my Grandfather told me something I’ve never forgotten. He said that whenever he was going through something painful or unpleasant he always reminded himself, it’s what you deserve, you miserable piece of shit, and that always made him feel better. I used to wonder why that made him feel better, but think I’m starting to get it now.

Thoughts seemed to harbor great peril, but their absence even more.

We were in deep shit, but I was too caught up, strung out, beat down to see it. It was the air we breathed and the ocean we drowned in. Today, looking back, I’m afraid for that young couple. I’m afraid for all of us.

Your brain has lost its goddamned mind.

So far below an acceptable standard that it doesn’t even qualify as failure.

People tended to refer to him in compound nouns:
Fuckup
Dumbass
Shithead