MEMBER SINCE: June 2007
occupation: Software Engineer
stats: 5'11", 185, fit, dark curly-but short-hair, baby blues.
body mods: Tattoos, unintentional scars, brainfucked
heroes: Hunter S Thompson
gets me hot: your mom
sign: stop
into: tattoos, beautiful women, belgian beers, snowboarding, skateboarding, cycling, my dogs, indoor-cycle instructing, PMA, smiles that beam with happiness, pure enjoyment
fantasy: FUCK OFF
makes me sad: routine of the unhappy
crush: Sweaty girls from cycle class with that flushed pink face from over-doing it.
makes me happy: Elliott and Naboo, SG beauties, delicious food, jokes, fucking, kissing, hugs not drugs, tingling face from vodka and laughing, Belgian Beers!
BLOGS
old again again..
the blog that waits for death
Current mood: crushed
Category: Life
alcohol. goodbye buddy. cya sometime since I have no doubt we will meet again.
34 is the age that Elliott Smith died. I just turned 34. I am far less worthy of life than Elliott, so why am I here? Because I choose to not to plunge a knife into my own chest? Because I enjoy pain? Because I know the highs should be rolling in any time now? I like to think it is that last one. The highs are so high..."too much is never enough" pours out of the tin-sounding laptop speakers, confirming my false choice. Thanks Firewater.
Just being in the middle of a low is so fucking awesome. "where do we go when everyone knows that we're no where?"
soon my angel will swing in with razor teeth and blood-soaked chin and take me to that high...will it be backed with single-barrel gusts? russian, potato rain? goofy, one-eyed mustachio man? probably. will i be responsible and drive? probably. I have made one good decision lately...recognizing that I could easily kill myself or others with my gusts and rain and pulled into the side-street of sleep. Rust covered wheelbarrow overflows shit onto my garden after the good decisions. In-patient or out-patient is the only question lest. I choose out i guess. slop-fu and lost car keys give the brain a break from drama, but the breal lasts about that long. As the thread of pain allocates more cerebral horse power, leaving less for child saving, the tears almost reach the surface. Man up clown.
man up.
Currently listening :
The Man on the Burning Tightrope
By Firewater
Release date: 12:00 AM
the blog that waits for death
Current mood: crushed
Category: Life
alcohol. goodbye buddy. cya sometime since I have no doubt we will meet again.
34 is the age that Elliott Smith died. I just turned 34. I am far less worthy of life than Elliott, so why am I here? Because I choose to not to plunge a knife into my own chest? Because I enjoy pain? Because I know the highs should be rolling in any time now? I like to think it is that last one. The highs are so high..."too much is never enough" pours out of the tin-sounding laptop speakers, confirming my false choice. Thanks Firewater.
Just being in the middle of a low is so fucking awesome. "where do we go when everyone knows that we're no where?"
soon my angel will swing in with razor teeth and blood-soaked chin and take me to that high...will it be backed with single-barrel gusts? russian, potato rain? goofy, one-eyed mustachio man? probably. will i be responsible and drive? probably. I have made one good decision lately...recognizing that I could easily kill myself or others with my gusts and rain and pulled into the side-street of sleep. Rust covered wheelbarrow overflows shit onto my garden after the good decisions. In-patient or out-patient is the only question lest. I choose out i guess. slop-fu and lost car keys give the brain a break from drama, but the breal lasts about that long. As the thread of pain allocates more cerebral horse power, leaving less for child saving, the tears almost reach the surface. Man up clown.
man up.
Currently listening :
The Man on the Burning Tightrope
By Firewater
Release date: 12:00 AM
DECEMBER 2011
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Rude_Ruca