(Untitled)

[ifsubjectx]

okay, someone back me up on the self-indulgent photography [to steal julie's phrase] thing.

Comments

[seppuku_files]

A hobo's dream, a drunkard's plush fantasy, the cold, cold ground isn't even alive where we spin on our heels and tip our bottles to the now and the yes and the "thank god hello and forever more" supplications.

i'm in love with your daughter, i wanna have her baby

[ifsubjectx]

i remember the beginning, when you would comment and i would tell you to stop making my words look weak in comparison to yours. that was thousands of miles away, and over two years age. now you sit next to me and hold my hand and sing along to tom waits with me. i want to say that you don't know how much this means to me, but maybe you do.

coffee or whiskey, it's all the same vice.

[seppuku_files]

Why does Oakland seem SO fucking far away tonight?

[youseeiseeyou]

..where a man with missing finger's plays a strange guitar

[atruestory]

I miss those people SO BAD

[ifsubjectx]

me too, especially the one in the second photo. she was so hot.

Mo' scratch then the rest of tha pushaz, cuz 'e had the chop-suey inna bush-uz.

[seppuku_files]

I will never forget this fucking season. The dying throes of the lounge era brought back to life, Lazurus Martini and Molotov Suzy, together at last, the drinking the dancing, the painting and the GTA, the porch and our lakeside view of the tanbark sea, the razorwire breakers. You may have left your heart in San Francisco, but you left part of your soul in Oakland.

It's okay though. I think I did too, Professor.