naja_haje

In lieu of a journal entry that details what I did yesterday, and with whom, or what places were found through a healthy mix of happenstance, wanderlust, and gasoline, or cryptic phrases not unlike the one that I began typing just moments ago and am continuing to type, right now, I bring to you Orvell and Tucket's stream of consciousness lawn jockey refugee camp for the pansexually impossible.

... uh, fuck that. Instead I think I'll get off of the computer and pick up my guitar.

I really wish someone would make this game.