it's official. i honestly cannot think of a single living literary soul that means much of anything to me anymore.

dr. hunter s. thompson...
say hello to bukowski for me

( marty mcfly has gone CRAZY!!!! )

i remember a night, that i can barely remember due to a tummy full of cheap rum, sitting on the playground of my old elementary school, being terrified of the immense clouds that chased us across the baseball fields. i remember a conversation about the beauty that hides in most everything, and i remember that conversation making me want to cry. and ( Read more... )

ol' dirty bastard died ( Read more... )

Post a comment with a memory of me.
It can be anything you want.
Then post this in your journal.
See what people remember about you.

"URAjerk@hotmail.com ( Read more... )

( the world famous helicopter fuck )

so i get to experience my very first hurricane sometime within the next 24 or so hours ( Read more... )

you're sleeping.

how come?

i try to think of something to justify updating my journal, but nothing ever seems important enough.

and there are important things right now, but most go better off unsaid

hmm...

i'd go look for a new job, but it's hard to do much of anything anymore with my fingers crossed all the time