high, dry, HST
For two minutes, I jumped into Hunter Thompson's body.
The children of the 70's are a fucked up mixed silly lot. Their patriotism towards the white power freak of Nixon disgusts and crucifies me to the idea that we are all one and the same and bowing towards a funeral type power where men are no longer men or bastard machines, men are now workers of a union forced into working by tyrrany.
Once I ran for Sherriff. It was a fun journey and I lost by few votes. I shook up the race into believing that someone who could and wanted to try to decipher the freak vote could go out and assume that he could shake his fist in the air and shoot guns from his house in a way that would scare the tourists. But I'm stuck on a ride, a strange trip to places I've always hated to be. I'm on my way to Vegas in a few weeks, to write a story about the Mint 400. It's like the Kentucky Derby and the Superbowl wrapped into a package minus the carnivorous ideas of scalpers charging 500$ for seats that would make your aunt scream with fear.
My only problem is I have a tendacy to push things to the brink. Limitless boundaries in an outdoor venture with motorcycles going until the dust settles.
Hear them roar.
I've been stuck in this hole for a week. Not really a hole, more like a.. semi large building. Currently typing like mad on a 17th floor computer. Things have changed since I remember them. Everyone's different, our President though, stays the same. Regardless of whoever we get, from Nixon to Bush, Carter and JFK were the main men. They knew how to revolutionize. They had my votes. And here we are in Bush II that we didn't ask for.
Not as if you care.
I'm still stuck in this fucking building. If there are any of you in the goddamned San Francisco area please drive me to Baker or Barstow just somewhere remote to get away from the evil smells of corporate rock whores.
The children of the 70's are a fucked up mixed silly lot. Their patriotism towards the white power freak of Nixon disgusts and crucifies me to the idea that we are all one and the same and bowing towards a funeral type power where men are no longer men or bastard machines, men are now workers of a union forced into working by tyrrany.
Once I ran for Sherriff. It was a fun journey and I lost by few votes. I shook up the race into believing that someone who could and wanted to try to decipher the freak vote could go out and assume that he could shake his fist in the air and shoot guns from his house in a way that would scare the tourists. But I'm stuck on a ride, a strange trip to places I've always hated to be. I'm on my way to Vegas in a few weeks, to write a story about the Mint 400. It's like the Kentucky Derby and the Superbowl wrapped into a package minus the carnivorous ideas of scalpers charging 500$ for seats that would make your aunt scream with fear.
My only problem is I have a tendacy to push things to the brink. Limitless boundaries in an outdoor venture with motorcycles going until the dust settles.
Hear them roar.
I've been stuck in this hole for a week. Not really a hole, more like a.. semi large building. Currently typing like mad on a 17th floor computer. Things have changed since I remember them. Everyone's different, our President though, stays the same. Regardless of whoever we get, from Nixon to Bush, Carter and JFK were the main men. They knew how to revolutionize. They had my votes. And here we are in Bush II that we didn't ask for.
Not as if you care.
I'm still stuck in this fucking building. If there are any of you in the goddamned San Francisco area please drive me to Baker or Barstow just somewhere remote to get away from the evil smells of corporate rock whores.