I used to have a roommate who had an entire shelf full of her books. He had read all of them, and believed everything they said. He was, as one can imagine, an insufferable, selfish, annoying prick. He played "jazz guitar" and gave his 10 minute long compositions (which were basically just him soloing endlessly over a dull 4/4 beat) names like "Parsley" and "Oregano", as he felt art was basically useless and these offhand, slight, whimsical titles somehow expressed his utter contempt for anything not brutally objectivist. He had an entire photo album (probably 100-150 pictures) full of nothing but photos of himself and his dog. This was normal to him. He never got drunk, as that would dull his vicious, cruel edge and if he relaxed someone would usurp his place on the giant Jewish totem pole of life. Both his mother and father were Jewish, but he denied being a Jew. He was a biology major in college, which he secretly felt was a failing as the men in his family were traditionally either lawyers or doctors, and he couldn't bring himself to be either. His father paid for his college education, but controlled the money ruthlessly, and he had to scrounge and pinch and scrape in order to scare up $10 for a bad bottle of red wine, which he would drink slowly while trying to look cultivated. Afterwards he would place the wine bottles on his bookshelves next to his collection of Greek and Roman classics, most of which he had never read...and the ones he HAD read he didn't understand. He was fond of quoting Nietzsche, mostly in order to justify his selfish, greedy, annoying mannerisms and habits. He only listened to art fag rock, shoegazer stuff, postpunk, and jazz. For my birthday once he bought me a beret (it was some kind of private joke which he didn't bother to let me in on, he just kept giggling) and, because he was too lazy to wrap it, just threw it in my lap while I was watching a Kung Fu movie. He used to wander around the townhouse we shared without his shirt on, strumming his acoustic guitar, playing scales, and composing impromptu dedications to "sunlight" or "Oatmeal."
I used to cum in his apple juice.
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Sandblasted faces, no mouths to scream. Needless object always scratching. This breach in heaven irised shut. It scorns the land without even ghosts
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