"Every Friday I want to think, “I can’t go on any longer. I’m fucked. Why am I so fucked. My life is fucked. Life is so fucked and sad,” and then drink a coconut juice and think, “I feel good. Life is okay.” That should happen every Friday night without any self-consciousness of it happening the previous Friday night. I want to have a melodramatic worldview, so as to not have any self-consciousness on those Friday nights that I’ll come to look forward to and eventually plan my life around. After eight years of this I want an angry coalition of beavers to break down my door at 4 a.m. and beat me to death with their clubbed tails while screaming, “I’m depressed! I’m depressed!” and crying large beaver tears. The beavers will eat my corpse."