I'm an addict. You know it. I know it. Dogs know it. And you, you beautiful creature, you don't want me to get better, you want me to get worse. Contribute to my bean addiction because you want me wired to the gills and doing the best work possible.

You too know the siren song of the black bean. I can feel it. You were there. It was June 1993, inside that small café in Rennes, France. Reading the local paper and sipping on an Allongé. Watching businessmen and tourists walk by. Imagining the details of their lives. The sound of soft jazz indoors and the sound of humanity outside. Those sights, sounds, and smells, forever trapped in 1993. We can return but for a moment, from inside a cup filled with jet black liquid.

My food bills are about $200 a month. Do what you will with that knowledge.

This is literally a life-changing amount of money. At this amount I can devote myself full-time to making games and tools. I don't know why you'd be so generous but I'm going to assume it's because you're a Saudi prince. If you want, I will add you on discord and address you as "My Prince". You can ask me for programming help, get feedback on your own projects, discuss ideas, complain about whatever. Dude, I'll send dick pics if that's your thing. I'm down for whatever, my Prince.