Packing. Packing. Packing. Yup. Home on wednesday. New york on friday. Chicago in july. Shows in june. Tis gunna be a frapptastic summer..
I met my soulmate at Massart.
ive come to terms with myself that the jesus painting just isnt working well. i started it out of spite of my own anger about the all school show, and it wasnt an act of passion. it was an act of anger and spite. so i started gold leafing over his face because now all thats left is his head, and then i run out of gold leaf sheets. damnit. im also second guessing my style. its not academic,...
i wished i wasnt so alone here...
Im tired, and i kinda wished i wasnt the only one in my studio fr hours on end. i need someone to entertain me for a while. im bored.
Gogol Bordello →
zephray: He is the man
Sometime wonder if assholes and cunts are the way they are because they dont shit enough.
Sex Pistols - Friggin' In The Riggin' - Lyrics →
It had to be done xD Sex Pistols- Friggen in the Riggen. Because it’s that kind of night tonight.
Excuse while I just go drink a beer and Soju Vodka and ball my eyes out in trauma and relief. My god what a fucking week. Never again. Ever. Again.
My Day After
The sirens make me sick, To hear them makes me cringe, I don’t understand, This cruel act of humanity. Injured a hundred in one prick, Burned and wounded down to the last hair fringe, The pain to lose a hand, Was the inner pain of insanity. An unknown killer to kick, Like his victims he should be singed, Like ball bearings to sand, Paradise to sin city. Our days are...
Everytime i hear a siren, i just feel so sick… i just feel so paralyzed. because i know where those ambulances are going, and i know that my body froze up and i was physically incapable of doing anything this morning for a reason, for my subconcious ESP mind to keep me safe. because honestly, those bombs were where i stand every year, and to know that all these people were there and are...
Letter to Him
How nice you are, you brought me horribly far, but on the seventh, my body and mind were afar. I can’t begin to tell you, my friends were just a few, glad we didn’t make it to the tenth, that one night was my cue to get rid of you. Happiness is partially restored, i can’t say i’m mad and bored, me and him were meant, so i keep plugging along and...
I’m not crazy about reality, but it’s still the only place to get a decent meal.– Groucho Marx (via paperimages)