how to drown
you’ve drowned. drowned so many times, you know deep down your tired, hard-earned promises belong somewhere on a craigslist ad: learn how to drown in just five easy weeks — beautifully and with utter grace.
the technique is really groundless. there are no absolutes. you have to be naturally good at it in your own individual way. there’s no other way around it, to be honest. drowning is a faith-system you confess to. it’s very intuitive. you either know how to drown or you don’t. the first step for most people involves embracing this kind of constrictive force about your torso. pretend it is hugging you as if it really loves you and considers you seriously enough as a potential romantic prospect — at least in that brief moment of embarrassed disorientation. when you are good at that, you have to get the sinking feeling right. it’s like this infinite drop into nothingness, right at the axis of your being — something like that. practice it a few times a day. you don’t really have to do anything. it’ll just happen to you and that’s all you have to do. just —-
and the constrictive feeling will begin to hug you so tightly, so lovingly that you’ll forget how to breathe. you’ll focus all you’re attention on absorbing that love at just the right angle. the tolerance is fragile. pay attention now. you don’t have time to keep fucking up. once you develop that skill set, you just have to incorporate the discrete drop to less than nothing that fills your entire selfhood. then you can experience paradox in all it’s lavishness — pain and nothingness — altogether in one breathtaking landscape.
if you practice long and hard enough and you’ll get ulcerative colitis — which is ultimately the goal. sit alone in your room and pour all your ulcerative colitis medication on the filthy carpet below you. this is to express how much you hate yourself. quickly pick up as many pills as possible in an embarrassed frenzy and start wiping them on the pair of jeans you haven’t washed in four months.
so, will it be cash or credit?