Some days you want to do something about your fate, others it seems the most you can do is just stare mutely at it, as the tidal wave approaches from the offing.

As a young man one's day is filled with thoughts of sex. As one ages, thoughts turn more and more to death, and anyone who tells you there's anything more important than those two things is really talking out of their posterior.

You are a complete person. No matter where you are at in life or what or who you have or have not.

If there's a day for killing yourself then Sunday must be it. Is there any other day where the absolute pointless emptiness of your fucked up life becomes more apparent, more crystal clear? Loud music and television never seem to keep the demons at bay on Sundays the way work and errands do through the week.

Don't let the weeks slip by he told himself. Grab the day by the scruff of the neck and give it a good shake.