I feel like a little boy sometimes, trying to pack all the things into my luggage, or looking at all the books in the shelves, or finding lumps and dumps of paper and other debris under my bed. So I fold my clothes and shove them in the luggage and sit on it and barely zip it. Worrying that the stitches of my cotton bag will pop while being handled. I take the books out and pretend to read them for a bit, and if I like it, leave it behind the toilet so I will read on in the near future. And I get all the papers together, and neatly categorize and organize them, justifying why I will need them in the future. Hoarding. Home-shopping advertisements. Amazon.com. I am lucky enough to be able to buy most of needless shit that I say I need. It's not my Louis Vuitton luggage or the Audi that I purchased. These are real stories of consumerism.

Everyone knows coffee is overpriced.


Mothagesso.