aw, hell.
yes ok. long time. very. shit. i hate this. i only realize it when i log on.
so hunter died. i didnt believe it when i heard it. i mean ive heard a ton of shit rumors lately. well not so much a ton, but hetti told me that 50 got his hand chopped off by "lamborghini doors" on his "escalaaaade". i dont know. so when steve-0 called me to tell me i decided that the only place to get the truth was from the aspen police dept. so i called 411 to get their number. when i called them the woman on the other end of the phone confirmed it. it was fucking surreal.
eh. picked up kurt vonnegut's "cat's cradle" and warren g's "regulate" for 5 bucks at goodwill. sweet buy.
i've not been doing so terrible these days at poker. even sober. which is strange since i was convinced the only way for me to win any sort of sport was to be trashed, and not only to be trashed but to be wearing my dolla sign necklace, which has broken. its a bad scene superstitiously, but realisitically its turning out to be ok. we'll see.
i havent seen shuba in a while, and frankly im missing the pigfucker. a lot. hes a good anchor to remind me of my orlando-ness, that i feel the need to hide. there's something about orlando. i hate it. it's just some town that used to be a large low-key sort of suburb of something bigger and more spectacular (theme parks), but now its coming into its own, and it sucks. its strange to me that i once thought i would never leave that place, and here i am in some town that is defined by a college and little more and i can't bear the thought of moving back to that hornets nest.
im rambling. too much.
fuck it, see you in three months. maybe.
allan wrench
so hunter died. i didnt believe it when i heard it. i mean ive heard a ton of shit rumors lately. well not so much a ton, but hetti told me that 50 got his hand chopped off by "lamborghini doors" on his "escalaaaade". i dont know. so when steve-0 called me to tell me i decided that the only place to get the truth was from the aspen police dept. so i called 411 to get their number. when i called them the woman on the other end of the phone confirmed it. it was fucking surreal.
eh. picked up kurt vonnegut's "cat's cradle" and warren g's "regulate" for 5 bucks at goodwill. sweet buy.
i've not been doing so terrible these days at poker. even sober. which is strange since i was convinced the only way for me to win any sort of sport was to be trashed, and not only to be trashed but to be wearing my dolla sign necklace, which has broken. its a bad scene superstitiously, but realisitically its turning out to be ok. we'll see.
i havent seen shuba in a while, and frankly im missing the pigfucker. a lot. hes a good anchor to remind me of my orlando-ness, that i feel the need to hide. there's something about orlando. i hate it. it's just some town that used to be a large low-key sort of suburb of something bigger and more spectacular (theme parks), but now its coming into its own, and it sucks. its strange to me that i once thought i would never leave that place, and here i am in some town that is defined by a college and little more and i can't bear the thought of moving back to that hornets nest.
im rambling. too much.
fuck it, see you in three months. maybe.
allan wrench