twofifteen graveyard

the sun sets on a valley of steel cranes. they loomed over the freeway, ready to topple down and cause chaos among the daily commuters. everyday we pass these cranes, yet they sit rusted and unused, lining the sides of the roads.

honestly,

get the fuck out of san bernardino.

in a desert

the chances of cold weather are minimal. sweatin' bullets of guilt in late november.

notes from the safari

can i get an amen from all the sinners out there?

the whole fucking time

what a severe loss of forward momentum. three days worth of heavy binge drinking isn't leading to any flashes in creativity. instead the mind tends to get numb, then eraser itself. it's quite sad, really. tomorrow is a holiday, which one is it?

sun down at 4:45. sun down forever.