Found it. It is gorgeous:

Saw them in Philly summer before last. They still bring it.

I see. Okay. If your point is that it isn’t necessarily worth being termed ASMR or whatever, I can see that. I always just used to call it ‘that weird sound thing.’

I drink beer. But I drink a lot of beer.

I never ‘believed’ in anything. It’s a response, nothing more. It’s like when your pupils dilate. Anyone who thinks it’s medicine is mad. If it doesn’t work for you, who gives a shit? I personally don’t like opera, but that doesn’t mean it’s pseudo-music.

Your joke is good, but Barfly is a great goddamn film.

That happens. I’ve been responsive to it my whole life, but only certain types and only at certain times. But man, when it works, it’s great.

Right there with you, and I wish I knew what to do. Hell, I even tried to play along - went and got a MS I couldn’t afford and everything. Nada.

Basically. I’m all for a fight - I don’t have that many creature comforts to lose, anyway - but what’s the structure of that fight? The rich and potent have themselves so insulated, so removed from the day-to-day, that they may as well be on Mars.

Purdom, you’re a disgrace.

You had a good run, New York. Time to pack it in.

Your granddad is more of a man than I’ll ever be. I once made the Pixy stix sandwich from The Breakfast Club just for shits and giggles. Sweet stuff on white bread is fucking repulsive.

That was a commercial? Hooooly shit. It would blow my fucking mind to see something like that on TV today.

Cool Whip? Not Miracle Whip? Your granddad smeared ultra-sweet goo on his Spam sandwiches?

My kind of ride, man.

Picture her having sex.

That sounds incredible. I wish I’d had that option. I did a Ulysses intensive freshman year that was taught by the same type of prof, this grouchy old guy who only taught that class and looked just this side of homeless. But my God did he know that book.

Hey, I’m a thing!

Ahh. Sorry about that, man. Saturday + not enough coffee + cleaning the house = much dullness on my end.

Fuck that. Actions have consequences, and hating pieces of shit is no indicator of anything except maybe righteousness. I’m comfortable hating this fucker with every fiber of my being, and I cried at Bambi.