I've been thinking how nice it would be to be declared insane and institutionalized. 4 squares a day, thorazine and triavil, once in the morning and once in the evening, art therapy, group therapy, lots of coffee in the alcoholic rehab wing, cigarettes and long walks on the grounds, conversing with the squirrels that hang on my every word. How nice it would be to hang up my skin and put on something a little more comfortable. I feel like I'm being nibbled to death by ducks. And the rain, Oh jesus, when will it ever stop. Another thing about institutional life that many of you have probably never considered. Hair Cut Day. Snipsnipsnip. My friends the squirrels would understand. My Best and only friends. SOB.
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