So Flogging Molly was a hoot...
The show was good. The crowd was lively. I was drunk.
The makings of a fantastic evening were at hand.
I went with Keith and Becky, deep into the heart of Boston, seeking the Roxy theater. We found it with open parking right in front, and the show began. Lost city Angels were the better opening act, blowing away Allistair who ranked as back ground music. Not only was my step brother not there, but the large skin-head wearing Wayne Mahoneys jacket was not with the New Dawn Hammer-Skins. I was so pleased!
Keith, however, lost my Scally cap. Bastard. He got his leg wrecked in the crowd, so I guess that's some punishment.
Becky out-drank him and was still a pleasure to be around at the end of the night, so I guess that sends a few jookie points her way.
Looking at this journal I realize that there are way too many quizzes posted. It's vaguely annoying. Instead, I shall present a nifty translation site. See your favored Websites mangled into Redneck, Skinhead or smurf! Yayyy!
http://www.psyclops.com/translator/
So Sami called me last night. 'Twas weird. I ought to call her back, but somewhat doubt I will. My life seems increasingly dull when I try to type it out.
How do you properly describe the days when you cast yourself into situation after situation with no seams? Friends and strangers shifting you from place to place, with no cohesion or formulated thought, and yet you are always just where you need to be. The less I think about my days the better they seem.
I can feel friends drifting away, but the autumn always does that. The only part that sucks is the pain that you can only put off, never prevent. Indecision, distance, choices and stands are the focal points of my life, and the falls don't seem to stop.
I can see distance and priorities, but I am goddamn sick of people who disappear as soon as there is no immediate possibility of being fucked. So, I'm done with them. That's right folks. I'm taking my balls and going home. I'm mightily interested to see how much dead wood is going to be cut from my life.
Timber!
The makings of a fantastic evening were at hand.
I went with Keith and Becky, deep into the heart of Boston, seeking the Roxy theater. We found it with open parking right in front, and the show began. Lost city Angels were the better opening act, blowing away Allistair who ranked as back ground music. Not only was my step brother not there, but the large skin-head wearing Wayne Mahoneys jacket was not with the New Dawn Hammer-Skins. I was so pleased!
Keith, however, lost my Scally cap. Bastard. He got his leg wrecked in the crowd, so I guess that's some punishment.
Becky out-drank him and was still a pleasure to be around at the end of the night, so I guess that sends a few jookie points her way.
Looking at this journal I realize that there are way too many quizzes posted. It's vaguely annoying. Instead, I shall present a nifty translation site. See your favored Websites mangled into Redneck, Skinhead or smurf! Yayyy!
http://www.psyclops.com/translator/
So Sami called me last night. 'Twas weird. I ought to call her back, but somewhat doubt I will. My life seems increasingly dull when I try to type it out.
How do you properly describe the days when you cast yourself into situation after situation with no seams? Friends and strangers shifting you from place to place, with no cohesion or formulated thought, and yet you are always just where you need to be. The less I think about my days the better they seem.
I can feel friends drifting away, but the autumn always does that. The only part that sucks is the pain that you can only put off, never prevent. Indecision, distance, choices and stands are the focal points of my life, and the falls don't seem to stop.
I can see distance and priorities, but I am goddamn sick of people who disappear as soon as there is no immediate possibility of being fucked. So, I'm done with them. That's right folks. I'm taking my balls and going home. I'm mightily interested to see how much dead wood is going to be cut from my life.
Timber!