Rorschach’s Journal. December 3rd, 1985.
Snow fall on brick surface at 8:05 am. Dogs out barking in front of playground. Too soon to be fornicating. Children run towards school bus in hopes of getting a higher education. Little do they realize, a Harvard degree means little on the streets of pain and suffering. Hooker moans behind hardware store, picked up the same john she did last night. Junkie shoots up across the street with half a bottle of Gin in his hand, hopelessly sobbing at the sight of the clown in toy store. It is 8:15 am.
Got a call from Dreiberg at 8:18 am. Whining about the senior citizen home being demolished across the street. Must do something about it he says. I decline and let them fester in their own fecal matter while they hopelessly gum away their last few food stamps on dog food. It is 8:25 am.
Day is still young. Will write more soon.
~ . TT .
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