It's a kraft I've thoroughly enjoyed for many a year.
Tonight, I kollected some of the most unique pieces I've ever seen.
My reknowned LED fingers wouldn't fit after a while, since my arms were so thick with beads, foams, letters, and everything else that people managed to comprise their bracelets of. I ended up just situating the mementos on top of each other since I Was running out of real estate.
I traded away some special numbers, but truly, it was worth it.
My arms are tingling still. My big bag o' kandie hasn't received an infusion of fresh energy in far too long. This is easily the single heaviest infusion it has ever received.
"Juice."
"Don't be a playah hatah"
"Shooting Star"
"Jewels"
I've got so much PLUR in my veins and my head right now, it's hard to think.
As I told
twinnikins a month or two ago as we breathed in the dust of the abandoned warehouse that served as the location for a renegade party.
"There's a part of me that's always loved happy hardcore," I said as I chugged the rest of my rev "... and always will."
Hullaballo reminded me of a plethora of reasons that I still party as hard as I ever have when the mood and the vibe strikes me.
Peace.