Arthur Graham’s Reviews > Atmospheres 2 > Status Update

“They used to build nuke missiles in this town. Now it’s Frito-Lay and hipster condos.”
“Well, you’ve gotta destroy the world somehow. It’s just a longer timeframe now.”

My buddy Jake ran the biggest Jennifer Lawrence competitive eating fan fiction site on the web, spent all of his time belting out these absurd stories that were vaguely erotic, but strictly about JLaw eating large amounts of heavily processed foods.

One time I took five Amphetamine tablets — the gold standard in ADD meds — and played Tetris for 58 hours straight. I got to the point where I could rotate and move the pieces with my mind. I think I could, anyway. I blacked out after that and woke up in a Target men’s room with my wallet, shoes, and socks missing.

The only vegan I’ve ever eaten was this chick in my freshman English class, and that didn’t work out well for either of us.

When I was in first grade, my teacher was killed by the KGB, a tiny chunk of polonium 210 dropped in her Ovaltine by a covert agent dressed as a Salvation Army volunteer.

I wrote my self-published book Atmospheres a decade ago on a caffeine-fueled, year-long manic episode that only ended when an ER doctor gave me a heavy dose of Zopiclone.

"Get drunk for 40 days and 40 nights, and then buy a fucking motorcycle. There’s a whole lot of chicks in this town who would fuck out anyone with a motorcycle, no questions asked."

Sound advice on the motorcycle, if I had money. And balance. I broke my arm one time on a bike, not sure how I’d fare on a Harley. A motorcycle purchase wouldn’t be a mid-life crisis for me; it would be an end-of-life crisis.

Woke with a gout attack, again. A hospital trip was in my near future.

The apocalypse already happened, and nobody paid attention. There’s no use trying to predict when the Earth will end, because it did ten times this week. Everyone expected a big biblical rapture, the ultimate eschatological spectacle: the sun darkening, heavenly gates opening, trumpets and archangel voices calling, the righteous floating up into the clouds to hang with Jesus.

The corporate scam kept a roof over my head, and you’d think it would give me the security to stop worrying about money and pursue my dream of writing. But living the dual life of lowest-rung at a straight job and unknown author takes a toll.