To all of the faithful readers of the American Mastodon, I apologize for the recent lag in both the quality and quantity of my posts. I have only myself and my increasing despair of the relevance and purpose of my life to blame; while the rest of you may enjoy reading about how "fuggly" a certain celebrity is, or whose "tees" deserve the daily "bovs"ing upon, I can't help but think that the world is a petty, evil place, full of petty, evil people. This thought crushes my soul and my will to live. My body, nothing but a shell of skin and tendons containing the dust that was formerly my ambitions and hopes, creaks and rasps like an old rickshaw. Though I've stopped drinking alcohol, I wake up each morning with a hangover. The only solace I find during the day is the thought that everyone around me will someday die. At night, when I should be sleeping, I lie awake and debate whether I should get up and use the restroom. When I do use the restroom, I wonder why nothing will come out.
During my lunch hour, I weep until my body is expunged of moisture.
So, in other words, I'm sorry if I haven't written much of worth lately.
Does this not inspire pity?