Yes, I think that I could do it right now. I can scarcely maintain an upright position for exhaustion; a painful amalgamation of queasiness and hunger festers in my gut; my senses are on edge, such that my head swings 'round at the slightest rustle in the distance -- and the office resounds with sound! The hum of the fan, the tick of the clock, footsteps in the hall, voices in the office, the irregular drip of water from the ceiling onto the plastic bag that lines the interior of the trash can behind my desk, a distant beeping from somewhere -- I know not where! -- all of these devils assault my peace of mind and conspire to bring about my fate. And these on top of those unhappy concerns that already plagued my troubled thoughts! Had I a pistol in my desk drawer, I would gladly splatter my brains across its glossy, varnished surface.
I finished reading Goethe's The Sorrows of Young Werther this morning. Poor Werther! Good book.
Jesus says: 
pAUL 
Liz 
