the folly of relics

Don't you just love it when you are promised something and you go out of your way to make the magic happen - not only physically with traipsing around town but emotionally with many phone calls and planning and then the thing does not come to pass. Retards are against me and taking up arms - they are afraid of paying money. I really, truly, want to become someone else today. Then my destiny can unfold in a profitable and non-excitable manner where disappointment is just a shadow of a ghost. It is not safe today, not at all. I was mistaken. I will need to hide in the waters of life and bathe my heart in the soothing balm of makers mark cocktails. I am planning to become a new person. I hate art and commerce. It is a match of the devil's undertaking. PR can also roast on its own sorry sputum fire. Flesh biting is my new way of life. I will turn my butler into an agent of evil where he will procure my victims from their beds and street corners under cover of the night and the rat army. I will slowly become smaller and more harried and fur-covered. I will nest in subatomic particles chewing tiny nerd candies which will seem grapefruit-sized in my tiny hands. My wings will carry me to a new life in Xanadu, a mind-life, a small and safe universe.