Bar Mirror Go and sit next to a Navy SEAL doing shots with his girlfriend at the Applebee’s on Manchester Road when you are full-up with despair and become acquainted with ignominy and humiliation and ask yourself if eloquence is adequate compensation for the loss of the body and the ruin of objective truth. Treatment Plan I don’t see how anything could get done if everybody felt this way. You wonder why I smoke, why I eat so much ramen. Maybe I’ll take some Ketamine! Oh, someday I’m going to write a twelve-page treatise upon the view from inside a coffin and play around once more with all my amiable delusions. One time I got so very freaked out that my feet began to have these mysterious unexplained aches. I would walk from the bus stop to my shrink and dream of canceling all my stupid appointments. And then I cried about my dad and all the pain in my feet went away. Maybe love could help me. Wait, dummy, aren’t you supposed to be a poet? ...