Sometimes you have to laugh, don't you? Got up, wrote an op-ed on sexual assault jokes, walked five miles, ran 1000 stairs, returned to this sty, which is like a tomb, piled to the ceiling with books, records, DVDs, completely unlivable, embarrassing, an absolute disaster, and heard water running down into the cupboard where the heating unit is, which itself behind a bookcase piled to the ceiling. I'm not equipped for visitors, let alone emergencies. For a couple hours, water poured in, no plumber coming. I got access to the unit upstairs, and believe me, you don't want me doing your plumbing. Might as well ask me to do a dental procedure on someone. I finally figure out how to shut this person's boiler off, scalding myself on a pipe in the process, so now I have an awful burn that is killing me. Friend phones. His mother died last summer, and his dad has been in the hospital like six times since then, and is back in the hospital. Doing all of this while desperately sending out the op-ed, which is awesome, something this country needs to read, to people who will probably not respond. Some of whom absolutely hate me. I have no clothes, no towels, because I used all of that to try and mop up the water that kept flowing in. So now I'm sitting in my sweat and doing a load of laundry. You know, fuck it. Fuck it fuck it fuck it. Jesus fucking Christ. Every fucking day is just some kind of fucked up fuckery. I'm just going to go run more fucking stairs.