A self-portrait

This is what I look like when I'm feeling friendly. I used to hunt truffles, back when truffles were in style and every Tomas, Jaques, and Fabian paid top dollar for my snout. But now I hunt for me, now I prey for my stomach. I chase the cheese.

Glot Bops and Jimmy-Jogs

It's all coming to the end. Really and truthfully. I began it, I started that which was nothing and became something and now is to become obliterated. It's like a flourless, butterless pancake in vain search for a pan - nothing but a wet spot in the carpet.