Short Attention Spans: “In Appreciation of Self-Destruction” by Jack Looby

When I was younger, like every well-adjusted child, I probed the gaps where my baby teeth fell out incessantly, despite the hurt. I still poke bruises on my legs, and I’m still looking for that movie that will make me weep or wet my pants in terror, either will suffice.

Big and bold as we are, we still neurotically seek hangovers and heartbreak for the fundamental reason of sensation. Leave us bored too long and we’ll fall for a best friend, and then drink the night before a 9am.

It’s messy and damaging and the most magnificent drive we share.

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