I’ve been sitting on this blogging situation for a while. For fear of having nothing to say or the possibility of confronting what I will say, I’ve chosen to say nothing for weeks.

Or rather type nothing, cause, let’s be clear, I say things all the time. My inability to create a single public sentence has been tormenting me. I made it symbolic of my failure to get a job/lover/bike lock/convincing narrative and keep it at the forefront of my thoughts at all times with my other pointless preoccupations. But after lying so many times when asked "what I do," including my absentee ballot application, I’ve decided to bite the bullet, imbibe a pint of Carlo Rossi, and type my truths at 32 wpm.

Truth one: I was really good at school. That means nothing when you’re not at school anymore.

Truth two: Poverty is as fun as you make it. Buy liquor in bulk and drink to get drunk but only at house parties, alone, or with other people. Free food always tastes better. Body odor is a state of mind.

Truth three: It’s not what you can do but how well you can do it. It’s not that your ends don’t meet but that they never meet. It’s not that you’ve become boring and uninspired but that your capacity for inane self-observation is boundless. It’s not that you feel frightened, ugly, and alone but that if masturbation had a championship, you would be a champion. Yes, I feel uncomfortable with that truth, but I’m sure it’s true.

Kate Faust