All right we gotta make content. What happened. I went to Las Vegas and Big Bear. With my non-girlfriend Susannah Garcia from San Bernardino. I used to bug out at not calling her my girlfriend. But it's OK now. In Vegas I spoke at a black tie ball. One of these online things with Hestia cigarettes. Afterparty in a fine penthouse. Beautiful people dressed elegantly taking veterinary drugs. An influential philosopher puked what looked like a Teotihuacan pyramid of raw ground chuck into the sink. A monument of puke. Rock solid meat pink. No liquid. Freakish quantity and consistency of puke that should be impossible for a human body to create. That just sat in the sink. It smelled. Susannah went in the toilet to do ketamine with Stephen. I went back there to see what the fuck was taking her so long. Whenever she leaves I feel like she's bent over getting inseminated by huge black cock. Or she's been kidnapped and butchered. And if I'd shown up one minute earlier I could have saved her. I get the feeling she's getting fucked or killed like I get the feeling I left a stove burner on when I'm five miles out on the way to the airport. I'm a mentally ill maniac. My struggle is to conceal this from the world.
Sometimes I think you’re Dutch
Vegas is great IF you really, really like:
Gambling
Drinking
Strip Clubs
Golf
Great weather in the dead of winter.
Then, it’s great.
If not, it’s a 24/7 assault of looming terror.
I’m a big fan.
I really liked your description of the party and your paranoid fears, and how you acknowledge and overcome them.
who is the influential philosopher
beautiful