When you told me that you had met someone, I was very happy for you. When you told me that we could no longer grow together, I was very happy for you. When you told me that I would never produce anything, I was very happy for you. When you told me that I should wither away and die, I was very happy for you. When you told me that your concept of the moment was redundantly black or white…I thought about how toxic our bed had become…and was relieved that tomorrow would never bloom.

If you do not believe that nip is omnipresent and can take on many forms…then how else do you explain the varying, impulsive absurdities of the world… that we all feel so happily compelled to simultaneously pursue?