I never realized the amount of odd-ball knick-knacks I have in my possession. Nearly half past midnight, and I am slowly unpacking my possessions as I recover from the aftermath of moving. I have boxes full of everything from fireworks to discarded "Insert" keys. The point may be argued that I do not "need" hundreds of empty Kool-Aid packets, but I ask what will you do when Kraft Foods of North America finally offers the denim jacket with the over-sized embroidered Kool-Aid man on the back and you don't have enough Kool-Aid points? You will surely be kicking yourself then.
Big decisions to be made when setting up a new place. "Will we get more positive energy flow with the gun cabinet in the corner, or right by the bed?" Currently, the most common items in our house are the empty alcohol bottles. This place still is not home. In the mean time I have secured, at least, sanctuary. Freedom to be away from the world, to do as I please. I enjoy writing, and so here I sit jabbering to an unknown audience.
Two other roommates; drums are loud, beer is good.
My thoughts keep wondering as I sit by the side of a small bag, relaxing with an old friend.
A common problem of my own, lacking concentration that is. Concentration or interest, I am unsure which of the two. Both problems in and of themselves I think.
A while back, I came across a girl I though was cool. I never got to know her because she was into "blow" and I didn't like that. Now it seems ironic that I sit here alone playing with a razor blade. I thoroughly fucked that one up; should have just been thoroughly fucked.
I am quite happy that I get a new town to play in. There is a high concentration of liberals, hippies and college girls. That has to be good.
Appy polly loggies for the useless mutterings, I will try to have more of a point next time. However, I do feel some sadistic satisfaction knowing I have effectively wasted your invaluable time.
Big decisions to be made when setting up a new place. "Will we get more positive energy flow with the gun cabinet in the corner, or right by the bed?" Currently, the most common items in our house are the empty alcohol bottles. This place still is not home. In the mean time I have secured, at least, sanctuary. Freedom to be away from the world, to do as I please. I enjoy writing, and so here I sit jabbering to an unknown audience.
Two other roommates; drums are loud, beer is good.
My thoughts keep wondering as I sit by the side of a small bag, relaxing with an old friend.
A common problem of my own, lacking concentration that is. Concentration or interest, I am unsure which of the two. Both problems in and of themselves I think.
A while back, I came across a girl I though was cool. I never got to know her because she was into "blow" and I didn't like that. Now it seems ironic that I sit here alone playing with a razor blade. I thoroughly fucked that one up; should have just been thoroughly fucked.
I am quite happy that I get a new town to play in. There is a high concentration of liberals, hippies and college girls. That has to be good.
Appy polly loggies for the useless mutterings, I will try to have more of a point next time. However, I do feel some sadistic satisfaction knowing I have effectively wasted your invaluable time.