Monday, December 19, 2011
The little things that count.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
A young man was parked in a bus stop today, outside of Foran’s. We briefly exchanged words and when I asked him to be safe driving up I-75 he told me he just lived up the road.
Then why the fuck are you driving a car, if you live so goddamed close? I will cut the tires of every red Mini I see for the rest of my days.
I will live where I live for as long as possible, if only because it will be difficult to find me when I finally answer my urges.
North Carolina? Seriously? Fuck.
In Rust I Trust (and only in rust)
g3
Saturday, December 10, 2011
I found my self years ago. It’s just taken years to realize it. I’m a little bit different. I’m not from a familiar mold. My lack of guidance paired with absence of supervision has led me to being strange. I think i’m cool with this at this point. Your “scene” means so little to a single child from a broken family. I make my own entertainment.
Give me a bike and some Stroh’s lager and I’m going to be ok.
I can remember my 14th birthday, telling my potential guests to buy me Butthole Surfers CDs. Hairway to Steven, Locust Abortion Technician, Independent Worm Saloon, and ElectricLarryLand were what I got. My band played bad punk rock in the basement. I’d like to thank the gift givers. You facilitated something different and unique.
It was an art show to the adults; but to me it was liberation. Nobody else could get into it, it pissed my parents off, I loved it. Gibby Haynes is still my hero. My post-op “aunt” Teri, liked them, too.
I am Saint Rohs. Patron saint of the lost children in limbo.
St.Rohs loves you. Enter my warm embrace.
In Rust I Trust.
G3
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Can’t be the taste, right?
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Next time i’m bringing scuba gear.
