Letter to Amino:

Thank Christ you got out of there when you did; last I heard was highly trained beavers were set loose on the ropes mooring Brighton to Blighty. We’ve all been waiting for the gentle kick-back as she floats to GOD KNOWS WHERE.

Or perhaps not. I’ve been quietly going insane in my little ivory tower – pacing the walls and such. Obviously, I have been reading far too much Thompson with blatant disregard for the recommended dosages; a brain as fragile as mine NEEDS recommended dosages at this my most vital stage.

Every night I am careening through the internet looking for a job; a simple media-related job. But there is nothing here friends and well wishers. This is a soulless, barren land. Perhaps if you look hard enough through the squint of your eyes you can see the graduate training schemes where a media job IS a sales job. I suppose they are right. The media, everyday, sells us hell and inadequacy. It sells us short – the dizziest of lows through a carefully blown marijuana fug.
Perusing the offers is like watching the initial stages of the birthing of some freakish lizard-pig; cracking through the translucent egg-shells, covered in some unspeakable, foul-smelling birth-goop:

“Amazing Graduate Opportunity – Corporate Sales London. This company offer an amazing opportunity for graduates who wish to pursue a career in corporate sales.
The leading graduate jobsite is looking for young, enthusiastic sales focused graduates with the drive to succeed and tons of energy.”

I can hear their mewling, it slides off the page. I’ve found them. It is here all the Hell on earth is brought forth; enticing those once innocent and open minds into their flock like some sallow, sweaty crossing-guard. Or perhaps the rot had set in a long time before. Who can rightly say? Perhaps we can nip this in the bud. Round up these sneaky lizard-pigs before the fuckers gestate, round them up with cattle prods and razor-wire and lead them into the blood-caked jaws of a monstrous mincing machine and have done with them.

Or burgers.

Whatever you fancy ‘cause it’s my treat.

Anyway, I’m rambling because I have fuck all to do but look for a job. Boo-hoo. Hope you and yours are well.