Dear job, I’m aware we hardly know each other. Tragedy has kept us apart. The vessel that is my body has declared war upon itself and my conscious mind is a prisoner.


That being said—please don’t fire me please! My psychiatrist said you shouldn’t because this is all unforeseen and couldn’t have been avoided. And she is pretty smart. At least she charges enough to assume she’s very smart. And she always runs like two patients behind and is clearly in demand.


But my mom was like—well he is trying to run a business. And I was like wtf? You do know I have an 18 inch long piece of plastic tubing inside my bladder and kidney. Give your kid a fucking break. Fuck.


*Work should resume in one week. And if not, be on the look out for my arrest.

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