wading through trash to set up my speakers and interface so i can play tyrannosaurus rex - unicorn on foobar2000 while the nihilist neofolk femboy surveys my room hungry for more things to make fun of (foucault books i havent read, lack of a closet, empty cans, disposable enemas, etc). he asks me "do you not feel embarrassed by your tiny, filthy room? you get laid in here?" i say "yes" to both because it is only a lie in regards to the former, and lies like that are a great way to defend against making people feel bad for having realized that they are making you feel exceptionally bad. he lays on my bed scrolling through the everything app while i sit in my chair alternating between eyes closed tight and throwing them against my marx brothers poster as a plea for help up to the end of cat black (the wizard's hat). the only words i can choke out are "doesn't this sound just like sung tongs?"
i pay eight hundred fifty dollars a month i only have from ebegging on a pale green closet with no closet that i try to avoid being in as much as possible. he showed me a bunch of neofolk and i only liked some it but i think he thought i didnt like it because of the nazi aesthetics (which im not gonna lie and say im a big fan of but i think i understand the subversive intentions of gay british occult guys) but it was mostly because its really boring largely and sounds like if stephen merrit was on nitrous and also plausible deniability maybe maybe not racist. i think im making a bigger deal of this than i need to but i have the kind of executive dysfunction where thinking of opening the mailbox makes me want to throw up. im naked in my bed in the afternoon now listening to tyrannosaurus rex - unicorn and its not helping as much as i want it to even though it is the only record that makes sense a lot of the time.
whatever
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