Bill: Swallow me!
Pat: How far are you?
Bill: An abundance of bridges in this city and none of the will to jump. A discussion of sharks has been interrupted by the pale king. Death incarnate. Horrible creatures, consuming their own intestines. Self-negation as primordial vitality.
Pat: Very Hegelian.
Pat: What a sloppy parade.
Bill: I might as well be a eunuch commando.
I should drink more whisky.
And earlier in the day.
God, Weiner was just lonely. Everyone is missing the point.
He is a ghost.
He should have pinned it on Hosni. He is toast anyways.
I am a little drunk.
Pat: I am the sexual equivalent of the permanently unemployed.
Bill: I might as well be unemployed. I have lost all courage.
Pat: Labor market treating ya tough?
Bill: Takes more than it gives. And it is never satisfied with my work these days. Don't credentials mean anything?! I went to Barnard, goddammit.
Are we talking about work or sex?
Bill: Your self-depreciation hits too close to my home.
Pat: We are white men, so it's not a surprise.
Bill: You and me, we should go to Burning Man and kill everyone there.
Bill: I just smashed my iPhone screen. I will murder anyone you finger.
Pat: Walk the path to freedom.
Bill: The big sleep.
Pat: Good bye for seven hours.
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