Also, I love love LOVE Matt's most recent post.
I used to have this reoccurring dream that I tortured people for a living. I would cut off their feet at the ankles and then immediately cauterize them with white-hot frying pans. Then I’d wait a few hours and do it all over again a few inches higher. People consist of measurements. We are, all of us, inches from something. Inches from cracking, inches from succeeding, inches from death. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar.

I am a human roach motel. I attract roaches. Like some filthy tenement, like some piss place. I nurture them like vipers writhing in the dark, all love bites and kisses in passing. They’re out there to find, poisonous and playful.
