There's a part of me that thinks that if I actually were able to wear enough black and maintain a straight enough face while spewing a manifesto of the silliest pretentious bullshit justifying why the irritating scraping sounds I'm making with an detuned electrified garden hose was actually High Art that only the snobbiest of effete pompous of assholes can truly appreciate that I could maybe make something of a career with irritating scraping sounds and selling it to effete pompous assholes to wax rhapsodic about with even more pretentiousness.
I can't. I don't.
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