Which One Of You Schnooks Took My Rhyme Book?

[bomb_the_town]

Mesmerizing. Tantalizing. Captivating. Devastating. I don't know, I feel good, but somehow something is troubling me, don't want to share though. I've been out. I'm at my Dad's right now. Goin to play basketball in the morning then we're off to Cleavland I guess. Should be a fun road trip. Got the new Beastie Boys CD today. I highly recommend you run out and buy it. See the start off this entry for references. Anyways, feeling a bit nostalgic once again. I don't know . . I just feel out of the preverbial loop when I'm not home. I don't talk to any of my friends when I'm out here, except for the occasional bleep here and there. Speaking of bleeps, keep em commmin. Anyways . . Ideas spark.. my hand grabs a pen. I still haven't decided if I should put my real writing on here . . It would be weird. I was packing yesterday for my trip and I found this poem I wrote on a napkin in like 7th grade ... it was strange, stranger than I remember writing it. It was about a boy eating an apple. But it sounded like it was about some disko club... wow. Why the hell was I writing on a napkin? Was this poem so importantly compelling that I had to hurry and scratch it down on a napkin? I doubt it. I prolly just wanted to look cool to whoever was at the resturaunt at the time, I can't remember. I thought I should clarify my previous entry. I'm a fucking idiot LoL. Crashed into a parked car. What the fuck is that all about? Backed right into the thing LoL. Ah, I'm going to bed.
Qu'est-ce-que tu fabriques? Que cosa fai? Come sta e? Ho fato molte telefonate. - What the fuck does that mean? I'm to lazy to go translate. Let me know. Shabadu Shabadi