Monday, April 26, 2010
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Monday, November 16, 2009
Silly fucking lunatic with your beaded skirts and shit. Keep up the good act while everyone is so drunk they can't even tell whether or not you're bullshitting with them. I know your game, and it's spent. Bored. Washed-up. Get this thing the fuck out of here before I try my hardest to be a violent person. I'm not. (Artwork 'Grey Square' by Julie Alexander)
Monday, November 2, 2009
She is so magical when she touches me with her greasy LA Looks-covered hands. She lights up the sky in the middle of Yuma, east, somewhere at the bottom of the foothills where scorpions dance to her sweet melodies. She is so practical about the way in which her speakers are bumping... and to think I could have taken her home. Eerily reminiscent of the time we both crossed paths in a desolate, abandoned strip mall. Marginalised by our love for one another, she reassured me of her entourage. We felt the plight of its utter abandon, without ever having heard its last breath. "Finally it has happened to me!" I thought aloud, trying my best to find some common ground on which to stand. It's hard out here, but it is worth it and the cold keeps coming but I know it's going to get warmer sooner than later.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Sunday, October 11, 2009
"Can you believe Susan?" asked Cheryl as she clutched her Starbucks coffee cup.
"No way! She is INSANE!" replied Tina. And they remained silent thereafter.
Bathed in the moment that embodied awkwardness and soaking in the lathery realm that was indeed splendidly dark.
Stark contrasts remained the theme for the rest of the night; tossing and turning and churning throughout a confused
and infused drunken sunbeam. Mechanically separated in order to weed out the unsavourable moments whose intentions were nothing other than insidious. Coming forward and taking steps into the morning hours. Looking forward to the humour, which would ensue. Bring me your screeching banshees with their irresistible smiling cankles. Underestimation for the sake of its own invention; betrayed movements across bleak pictures bleeding frivolously in an arbitrary sort of way. "Tucked beneath all of my glorious luxury is a neigh emancipated woman whose life is not worth living," reflected Tina whilst Cheryl continued sipping away at her venti soy hazelnut vanilla cinnamon white mocha with extra white mocha, caramel and 13 extra shots.