july is gone, like the gasoline it took...

the best way to set up this place, and this blog, and everything that should come out of my head/mouth/chest/foot from this day on is that my head is completely fucked up and i am overly opinionated. my fantasies all involve sinking, failing, drowning, and i am looking for any chance to grab those things by the hair and fucking succed, like the gameshow contestant with the grandfather clock or jesus on the hill with all that fucking bread and fish. im looking for a lot of people who have no problem with me and wish that i never moved away or die. im looking for people to tell me i am full of shit and put me into my place, until their own hypocracy finds them in a run down motel room in DC with a crack pipe in their mouth and a crack whore in their croch. that is what i need, or at least seems to be what i need right now, as i type away and hope that no one is offended except for the guy i know with the anti-authoritative tattoo that is happier than a hippy in shit that he is now "management" and can write people up. i knew you were fucking fake when we talked about the song and the threehundreddollar jacket and everything about you that made me feel like you would sell me out in half a second, but you never got to, cuz you got to luke, and his friends, and now you fucking talk and talk and talk and all i here from your worthless mouth is that you sold one of us out. i move on, i am a better person, here's to a new chunk taken out of the rock, courtesy of myself.