what can a decent man talk about with the greatest pleasure?
answer: about himself
well, then, I too shall talk about myself
-Fyodor Dostoevsky, in Notes from Underground
x.h. 19 singapore
I’m a socially awkward, temperamental, quiet, hard-headed cynic and a spineless, gutless wuss who insists on being a pseudo- transcendent intellectual.
Forever bogged down by inherent laziness, pride and food.
I have a penchant for trashy pop music and hip-hop in a language I don’t understand that leaves me sexually frustrated. I have soft spots for potty mouths, classics and gangstaspeak.
Also convinced that I am schizophrenic and that it runs in the family.
I want to marry Ralph Waldo Emerson, Oscar Wilde or Lord Byron. Unfortunately, they’re all dead and the last two are gay.
If you’re a sucker for scientific analysis, be glad to know that I am an INTP. Actually don’t be glad. Just leave me alone. Unless you’re smart. Which I bet you’re not. I need to finish this book. Later.
bitches fishes. Because I can.