I admit it <a href="http://www.democracynow.org/">now</a>. I didn't want to in the <a href="http://www.childpastlives.org/">past</a>. I guess I knew all along that I'd have to <a href="http://www.ilovejesus.com/misc/accept.html">accept</a> it. Sunny mornings sipping my <a href="http://www.pbs.org/weta/washingtonweek/voices/200306/0602coffee.html">coffee</a>, rainy afternoons curled up with my favorite <a href="http://starvingarts.com/literature/">literary magazine</a>... it always haunted me. I was a failure. I am a failure. A <a href='http://www.whitehouse.gov/president/gwbbio.html'>miserable failure</a>. All those years I spent trying to convince myself that I, too, could be an <a href="http://www.computingfuture.fsnet.co.uk/Main_Menu/Press/press.asp">internet designer</a>, and not only the <a href="http://www.superbad.com">super-cool</a>, <a href="http://www.bod-mod.com/main.htm">pierced</a>, <a href="http://phrases.shu.ac.uk/bulletin_board/7/messages/300.html">tattooed</a> <a href="http://www.usmc.mil/">sycophants</a> who <a href="www.number-10.gov.uk/output/page4.asp">suck ass</a> for a living. But it's over now. The hell with this business. <a href="http://www.clareflorist.co.uk/partner/jump.asp?idaff=350">Send flowers</a> to my mother, if you'd like. I'll be up all night getting drunk, sleeping in a <a href="http://www.beck.com/diskobox/song.php?id=00117">hollow log</a>.