hm... Inspiration is for the cats who can’t find solitude and acceptance without their muse lodged directly in their colon, blowing sweet-nothings up an empty ass. I write with fucking purpose. I don’t write with heart; I don’t write with feeling or emotion or love or despair. I write to get the fucking point across that nobody has to act like they live through astounding convictions, so that I may go one more day without murdering one of the hapless morons who pepper my day with their insipid inanity. I might be a humanist, but I don’t have to like the human. I’m not an angry person, I just have a relative anger problem. It’s not even a problem, it’s what cushions you from my own invidious feelings towards inspiration. Some folks have it and they make a million dollars from it. or proclaim inspiration saved them from a hardship like it's some fucking rite of passage everyone else is fucking doing for notoriety and i rather say i don't have it because logic and common sense will always wake me the fuck up.