"It’s beautiful yet sad, when I see — or imagine — a woman in front of the mirror applying rouge to her cheeks, or eyeshadow to her eyes, as if she wasn’t really a person until the porn saturated men believed her to be so, half driven by alcohol and balls. I hate going to bars. I hate the incomplete genome of my aimless dick. I hate the red bull-vodka alpha male cock blocks; the high shriek of an adderall-infused brainmess of a woman; the stupid songs which people try to fuck to, thinking they lubed up the drum machine just for them. And all this the night before the next day, the searing blandness of daylight as god’s confession on a face saying sorry you are just you, you smiling there with a latte meant for a calf saying do you love me, I will smile all day until it hurts."