I'm in LGA right now, and NY is a fucking amazing city. I want to make love to it. It's essence, it's being, it's people...everything. Well, nevermind that. I should be posting up pics soon enough. Bye, guys. I'm gonna go suck Alexandra's dick.

I'm leaving the 31st of March to the 4th of April. Awesome. This is all I'm fucking living for now. Just roam the streets with my stiletto and cameras. I got a Nikkor Fisheye 16mm f/2.8 and a shitload of 120 film too. Lots of shit coming soon.

Oh shit! I'm shooting for Ultra and I'm getting backstage passes! Fuck! I get to meet Robert Smith!

And, I'm also shooting Calle Ocho. Weird as fuck.

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I need to work myself to death. "Live it up, live it up! Live up the American Dream." I said that shit. Damn fucking right. My next post, and those that follow, will be in the "latin" of the "swine." Just because.

I walked in


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Ruskin’s argument has shown every possible bit of validity. His motives for his accusations, or at least, his insinuations of the Philosopher as being a romanticistic imbecile, falls right in place. Philosophically, stated by Peter Betancourt himself, “The Soldier will always cover their own duty, while possibly, doing the others’ duties as well.”

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Life is reckless as fuck. I love my spacious life. I'm not ME. My body is a messenger to you guys!

SPACIOUS!

I just got home by means of a taxi. Literally. What the fuck is wrong with me? It's 5:30 in the fucking morning. I'm happy as fuck though.