It was exciting about the economy because the economy deserved it. I was angry when they kept propping it back up, but I was scared when I lost my job altogether and found it nearly impossible to think. Soon enough I couldn’t find anything to eat. Then a guy I met went nuts, raped me and took my dog. He kept saying it was a matter of domestic policy, that was the vocabulary of his delusion. I kept thinking maybe it could all be for the better in the long run. I’m practical at heart. I got some guns and shot a few people I always knew were assholes, as long as the justice system was the last thing on our minds. That did something for society and me both. I shot a police. Then I found a bourgeoisie and shot him with another bullet I had and then pretended to be giving him some beans, and then I took the sharp edge of the can and cut his wrist with it for symbolic impact, like “you did this to yourself,” while his stomach was all bleeding from the bullet and shit. Then Olivia spotted me. I’d been traveling with her and this smudgy kitten she kept in her coat pocket, and she was so pissed when she saw what I’d done that she took her kitten out and let it scratch at my eyes. She was like, You have lost all sense of perspective, that guy probably had a lot to contribute now that you fucked him up. I was just crying because of everything, physical and mental at the same time. At first I thought the kitten would really scratch my eyes out, but then it just patted me with its claws retracted. I felt the pats of little kitten feet and felt I was not in it alone. But I don’t know how long you can keep a kitten in this scenario.