(no subject)
In my house: there's a small colony of ants on my little brother's floor, a dog in the hallway that perks its ears whenever I play a major scale and a mother who walks around with a nice smile on her face but a sneer in her back pocket.
In boise:
There's an art gallery in the bottom of the empty canal, a scenic walk perfect for breaking glass bottles with rocks and a second rate arts scene that considers itself on a much higher hollistic level than the rest of the world.
In my room:
There's an Ansel Adams' print on the wall, an entire wall of pictures I've taken (this much pride has to be a sin) and a bed with flannel sheets that is the only thing I look forward to at the end of the day.
And now Reliant K is singing to Jesus. That's the last time I take music reccomendations from the churchies.
In boise:
There's an art gallery in the bottom of the empty canal, a scenic walk perfect for breaking glass bottles with rocks and a second rate arts scene that considers itself on a much higher hollistic level than the rest of the world.
In my room:
There's an Ansel Adams' print on the wall, an entire wall of pictures I've taken (this much pride has to be a sin) and a bed with flannel sheets that is the only thing I look forward to at the end of the day.
And now Reliant K is singing to Jesus. That's the last time I take music reccomendations from the churchies.