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.

you are a satin noose

It's eight in the morning and I'm sitting on my employer's dinner table, waiting for the kids to finish breakfast. It's ten times hotter in Lafayette than Fremont and I'm already contemplating turning on the air conditioning. I'm tired from the night before but not hungover. I kept promising to black out but never actually achieved it because I was just that tired. But I'm always this tired. Tired all the time because my youth is at its closing ceremony (if it hasn't had it already). This is what it feels like to have make money. And I thought having money would make me feel secured even for just a minute. But I'm now more stressed about it than ever before. It's tiring. I'm fucking tired. I feel old and dead. And I never having anything better to say.

seymour

The capitalization (or lack thereof) suggests that it should not be taken seriously. But the punctuation signifies that I mean it.

vonnegut on sartre

why do you keep talking about my baby

kid sux

Pornography

Dis person

Wut grad

Wut

deadbeatsummer

Hey. Come and rot with me.

Bastard.

Everyone is all fucking the same.

stupid shit

shut up

tall sluts

shut up

Das ma kilt

Neck

Camus

"I was obsessed by thoughts of this woman or that, of all the ones I'd had, all the circumstances under which I'd loved them; so much so that the cell grew crowded with their faces, ghosts of my old passions. That unsettled me, no doubt; but, at least, it served to kill time."

251

If you look up futility, you'll see my name in reference (all self-deprecating shit intended). My emotions are hungry and I want to be alone. Maybe I'm confusing emotions from hormones. My life is made up of distractions after all. 

Tits and Trees

Dumb Sluts