and i'm back like vertabre
alright motha fucka's we are back on the air. or the web, whichever. summer as we know it is winding down. those of you in school, fall semester is about to start. we can all drink to that. those of you wasting your lives like i am, well, we'll drink to that too.
chumps - they know who they are and i imagine none of them are reading this, because no one reads this, chumps, fuck off and die. seriously, vegan, straight edge, fuck you. straight edge 'no sex, no drugs, no fun'
and someone explain to me when hardcore and faggot became the same thing?
and while people are explaining, when did it become okay to be a faggot anyways?
life in general - good times. we have our rockn'roll,*but i need more, where are the punks? JAMES, SAVE ME* we have our crews, our rides, our bitches, and our pretentious habits of acting much more 'street' that we actually are.
question- how do you get that girl that you know likes you to leave the person they have been with forever and nine years for you?
statement- more Black Flag needs to be played on local radio.
demand- give me money.
story- another cool evening. a walk taking advantage of the break in the rain. broken sidewalks, flickering street lamps and fences in dire need of mending. cars somehow forced along well past design life. it isn't the ghetto, but we aren't quite out of the hood. poor people live here. good people, but poor. they make just enough to get by, if you can call it that. 'i hope to not be here when the sun comes up tomorrow', he always said curious things like that. a long drag off a cheap unfiltered cigarette, throwing into the gutter. 'surely there is more?'
chumps - they know who they are and i imagine none of them are reading this, because no one reads this, chumps, fuck off and die. seriously, vegan, straight edge, fuck you. straight edge 'no sex, no drugs, no fun'
and someone explain to me when hardcore and faggot became the same thing?
and while people are explaining, when did it become okay to be a faggot anyways?
life in general - good times. we have our rockn'roll,*but i need more, where are the punks? JAMES, SAVE ME* we have our crews, our rides, our bitches, and our pretentious habits of acting much more 'street' that we actually are.
question- how do you get that girl that you know likes you to leave the person they have been with forever and nine years for you?
statement- more Black Flag needs to be played on local radio.
demand- give me money.
story- another cool evening. a walk taking advantage of the break in the rain. broken sidewalks, flickering street lamps and fences in dire need of mending. cars somehow forced along well past design life. it isn't the ghetto, but we aren't quite out of the hood. poor people live here. good people, but poor. they make just enough to get by, if you can call it that. 'i hope to not be here when the sun comes up tomorrow', he always said curious things like that. a long drag off a cheap unfiltered cigarette, throwing into the gutter. 'surely there is more?'