So who’s gonna watch you die?

So like the absent-minded fool that I am, I left my psychotropic medications in L.A. Because of the terrible, terrible withdrawal side effects, I was compelled to pick them up after finishing work.

Love is watching someone die.

Wow. Just, wow. Good thing I'm a little drunk.

I think the worst part about watching death—even just the death of an ill-tempered and anxious dog who lived a long life of almost 15 years, who had deteriorated to the point where he couldn't even stand up to take a drink of water or even to move out of his own filth—is that you know for a fact it's going to happen again and again, unless you happen to go first.