the tourney was held at my friend's house, a veritable car crash black box recording of a subhuman tempe city-dwelling.
have you ever felt like at a certain place, you had to act like an asshole in order to feel comfortable? like, no matter what, someone there was gonna go outta their way to make sure you didn't sit right? that's how i feel at that place, armor on, where the air is heavy with an invisible smoke you can feel filling your lungs, tickling your nose on exit with so many sparkly dog hairs... where strange drunks poking you with their fingers hold shrieking intervals like an oiled sawblade, but with carefully missing teeth.
it's where everyone is trying to convince you to agree upon something, anything, any one thing just so that it can and will be held up against you later in sobriety. a weapon, any weapon to feign wisdom, enhance drama or talk shit... the old pros do as they wish and choose not to recall it later, fascinated with the fresh blood, not because they genuinely like them, but because it's just become so boring swimming with all the other fuckin' assholes. the sharks all ask to ask you questions and take bites of your style to impress their dead nasal girlfriends later when they've left you alone.
as they all get closer i want to bury them even more... how did i meet all these fuckin' people in the first place? this is the wrong road. this fuckin' treadmill ain't the way back. this is fuckin' purgatory. all the headaches, the two-stepping, the side stepping, it all ain't worth it.
i'm better off alone, all by myself... maybe it's that i can't keep up, maybe it's that it's scaring me. maybe i need to leave it all behind, fuck all these people, remember them for what they used to be instead of what they've all become. i've grown up and they've grown older, i'm done drinking water and they're still drinking blood.
-bobby
have you ever felt like at a certain place, you had to act like an asshole in order to feel comfortable? like, no matter what, someone there was gonna go outta their way to make sure you didn't sit right? that's how i feel at that place, armor on, where the air is heavy with an invisible smoke you can feel filling your lungs, tickling your nose on exit with so many sparkly dog hairs... where strange drunks poking you with their fingers hold shrieking intervals like an oiled sawblade, but with carefully missing teeth.
it's where everyone is trying to convince you to agree upon something, anything, any one thing just so that it can and will be held up against you later in sobriety. a weapon, any weapon to feign wisdom, enhance drama or talk shit... the old pros do as they wish and choose not to recall it later, fascinated with the fresh blood, not because they genuinely like them, but because it's just become so boring swimming with all the other fuckin' assholes. the sharks all ask to ask you questions and take bites of your style to impress their dead nasal girlfriends later when they've left you alone.
as they all get closer i want to bury them even more... how did i meet all these fuckin' people in the first place? this is the wrong road. this fuckin' treadmill ain't the way back. this is fuckin' purgatory. all the headaches, the two-stepping, the side stepping, it all ain't worth it.
i'm better off alone, all by myself... maybe it's that i can't keep up, maybe it's that it's scaring me. maybe i need to leave it all behind, fuck all these people, remember them for what they used to be instead of what they've all become. i've grown up and they've grown older, i'm done drinking water and they're still drinking blood.
-bobby
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
oh, and as far as condition, nothing is meant..most of them are toys that i've had for several years. some of them i've bought more recently at toy shows and the like, meaning that others have played with over the years. i'll be very reasonable with the price(s).
[Edited on Mar 12, 2004 3:42PM]
And I hope you don't mind that I saved that emo dino pic, because it made me laugh. Hey I didn't steal it!!