The behemoth stewed along the periphery of the city growing in intensity while the sultriness soared. It loomed over the lowlands, redolent of brine, then dust, then mud, until it finally crashed down and swept the fervor away. With windows left open to let the tempest in, the candles were smoked, and the darkness gave way to the blue effulgence of calamity. All was awash in dissonance, rawness, serenity.
In other words: I fucking love thunderstorms.
I'm tired of being on the inside, looking out. Who else wants to get the fuck out of here? I'll explain later, once it's all behind us, but there's too much to disgorge right now. Then again, that's the problem, isn't it?
(Full Version)
Let's just say that everything is even more stentorian and nettlesome than usual. The superfluousness, more striking.
Let's just make a run for it.
Happy 25th Birthday, Double Nickels on the Dime. Rest in peace, D. Boon.
In other words: I fucking love thunderstorms.
I'm tired of being on the inside, looking out. Who else wants to get the fuck out of here? I'll explain later, once it's all behind us, but there's too much to disgorge right now. Then again, that's the problem, isn't it?
(Full Version)Let's just say that everything is even more stentorian and nettlesome than usual. The superfluousness, more striking.
Let's just make a run for it.
Happy 25th Birthday, Double Nickels on the Dime. Rest in peace, D. Boon.




