(no subject)
I could sit here and tell you stories of after show gatherings with professional wrestlers (one being a very large black man named "Skull Krusher") in parking lots and shitty apartments in Milwaukee, drinking warm Natty's and smoking shitty weed with Zack Gowen, but you wouldn't believe me
I could tell you I pee'd in Mr. Kempan's yard one evening while getting shitfaced with Gabe Brandl, Joe Van Heake, and Jordan Steimke, but you wouldn't believe me
I could tell you I made seven new friends, gnomes, wood panel gnomes, they laughed at me in my 1970s porno scene, as the acid started wearing off, but you wouldn't believe me
I could tell you about living out of a backpack for five days, sleeping on floors, sleeping in parks, washing up in public restrooms, hitching rides, walking across town, stealing food from an open house, stealing from a rummage sale, showering at the pool, washing my feet in fountains, but you wouldn't believe me
I could tell you about a sweaty encounter at eight o'clock in the morning, in a van, with an Italian, but you wouldn't believe me
I could tell you I made art out of a flattened and dried up squirrel on the side of the road, but you wouldn't believe me
I could tell you I'm not so socially awkward anymore, but you wouldn't believe me
I could tell you I'm turning twenty years old in a month, but I don't believe myself
sometimes my life just blows my mind, other times I just blow my mind on life
I could tell you I pee'd in Mr. Kempan's yard one evening while getting shitfaced with Gabe Brandl, Joe Van Heake, and Jordan Steimke, but you wouldn't believe me
I could tell you I made seven new friends, gnomes, wood panel gnomes, they laughed at me in my 1970s porno scene, as the acid started wearing off, but you wouldn't believe me
I could tell you about living out of a backpack for five days, sleeping on floors, sleeping in parks, washing up in public restrooms, hitching rides, walking across town, stealing food from an open house, stealing from a rummage sale, showering at the pool, washing my feet in fountains, but you wouldn't believe me
I could tell you about a sweaty encounter at eight o'clock in the morning, in a van, with an Italian, but you wouldn't believe me
I could tell you I made art out of a flattened and dried up squirrel on the side of the road, but you wouldn't believe me
I could tell you I'm not so socially awkward anymore, but you wouldn't believe me
I could tell you I'm turning twenty years old in a month, but I don't believe myself
sometimes my life just blows my mind, other times I just blow my mind on life