yeah, you know, i used to hang out with some jersey kids in sf. we'd go crusing the streets and shit and often i'd see this dude just sitting like a goddamn yogi on a mat near the montgomery bart station. then a few years later i see crumb and find out he's r. crumb's brother. if yogi dude had wings, i think he'd fly away to ireland and make a nest for himself in a wing of an abondoned castle. i say this because i think that's what i'd do... if i only had a pair of wings... hey! maybe you could lend me a pair, aly!
i'd be more worried about what the grandparents are going to say. my guess is: dad'll like the tat, mom'll say "ew" about the piercing. in reality all the judgements are going to stem from a jealous desire to have lived that fully. PWOPZ!!!
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"...and wonder what the fuck goes on in berkeley..."
been mulling this nearly every hour of the day. have you seen "Crumb"? it rubbed it in some more...
it made me think of crumb the way i do dalí, bob dylan, an dave chappelle...
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