dead end of mall. behind a fairly busy intersection. we sat on those little tables staring forward at the plastic wall for about an hour. many passersby were confused, concerned, scared, or just plain amused. we didn't really mean to commit to the idea for so long it just sorta happened.
she went to the diner with us because it was important that the waitress there met her
return of subtle toning, this time less subtle (but still subtle)
july '25
all these years and hundreds of miles and i'm still playing videogames with people late into the night where the best move for hot food and snacks is to go down to the local gas station. truly a time honored tradition
you read about the usa 100 years ago and you go "damn it sounds like getting attacked by wild dogs was like a coming of age thing- a sort of tragedy that befell the old masters, that necessitated a whole profession around catching and preventing the formation of roving dog packs, what happened to us as a country? why don't i ever get attacked by wild dogs like the artists whose work so inspires me?" and then it happens to you and you go "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh I See"
wet fall my beloved
pwyc all ages punk continues to be where it's at, also the bookstore it was at is quite cool
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