i'm so sick of these sketches falling all over my floor. it's like stubbing my toes.

R.I.P. stuff

JS KILT DA CLUB

I'd like to dedicate this moment to acknowledge all that I have loved and lost. To all the things I attached myself to, poured my guts and butts to, and loved with all that I am. 

1. My adventure shoes. I lost them at Yosemite. Well technically I didn't lose them. I left them. After I jumped off the cliff at Rainbow Pool with Ace, we went back to the car to get changed. I was drying out so I took off my shoesies just outside my door. Ye we drove away and I didn't realize I left them until we were at some Mexican restaurant. By the time I realized, I was near in tears and I didn't even eat my food. I just looked down at my hands and...ye. It was weird. RIP little babies. They were the best shoes I'd ever loved. 

2. Secondly, and obviously a very fresh wound, my ipod. I literally just went through my entire blog (nearly [which also made me feel even shittier because I'm starting to get the idea that I was a better person before??]) just so I can find a picture of my ipod. I don't really know what to say. This one's really got me down. I'm pretty sure I lost it before or after I threw up on a bush in front of my parent's house. Ye I was just too drunk to handle my shit. I also lost a new pack of cigarettes withhhh my ipod. I've been home for four days, sulking, because of this. help. 

3. And lastly, for now (as far as I can remember), this cargo jacket. It's not mine. And I'm almost positive I didn't lose this. Vaggy keeps blaming me anyway but I really wanted to wear it often enough so that it could be mine. I'm not that torn up about it. But it still haunts me. Not much, but enough for it to make it to my list. Ye this is getting weird. I need to stop. 

I'm starting to have nightmares about my ipod. Man I am really in a bad way nowadays. Fucked up as fuck.

The loss of my ipod actually resulted in the onset of a new bout of depression. I haven't been this way since the failure of my attempt at a hopeless nursing career. I suppose I never really recovered. From any of it.

I just miss my ipod. It was the one thing I could unfailingly count on. Sad face of a small face for days.

Sick of it. Sick of me.

bitches i'd fight

aka my buddies.

Powell's

The excessively nice and kind state of Oregon, a charming and huge bookstore grabbed me by the throat and overwhelmed me with love. Hella fucking huge.

pipi

I have just spent the last two weeks driving up and down I-5 and stuffing my face till my stomach's content. I miss Portland. LA can suck my pipi. But now I am home, and the first thing that I did when I got home was pound a bottle of whiskey and chased with beer. My pals and I danced to This Must Be the Place for the thousandth time, and I got so plastered that someone had to carry me. I woke up with a hangover and my buddy getting dressed to leave for a photoshoot. Home. Sweet. Home.

Also I think I need to jerk off. I think I'm bouta. Then I'll drink, start my piece on Portland, pass out, then go back to work tomorrow. Sad face of a small face. Whatever, time to fap.

bby bby

cookaloo

pisses

jordro's coffee table and a coupla bitches

Portland

I just don't want to come home.

Work.
Drunk.
Work.
Drunk.
Dead.