On: Distaining Men, and Oxygen, for Arrogance of them ---

I never spoke—unless addressed—
I'm here for when ever the club sippin buzz really drunk and I see a fat booty
And then, 'twas brief and low—
Got to have it I'm a grab it cause its a habbit automatic like uzi, with the sick flow
I could not bear to live—aloud—
Make a chick go crazy and plastered tatta its redfoo the dude a true party rockaaaah
The Racket shamed me so—



SORRY FOR PARTY ROCKING

On: with wild abandon.

Somewhere in the vicinity of Welland a very big very dilapidated property sits. I would Judge the yard area to be at least two acres where stand, but just barely, two sheds, one barn and this house. The ceiling is holes, the floor a mishmash of rot and strange board games, and the floor also is holes.

Fancy imagery is lacking in this post but sweet sounds will follow; M-O-O-N radio (my AWESOME gothic rock, post punk, new wave, dark wave, etc college radio show) begins again TONIGHT! Wheeeeeee! At 8! You can listen to it online at www.fusionradio.ca

Now imagine a moon here. Or here.
Or perhaps the bottom of an unruly youth.

NOTE TO SELF








FUCK YEAH

On: new casa and whatnot.

1) New bedroom, pre-postering/decoratizing. I have managed to cram most of my possesions into milkcrates, a briliant idea I stole from Neil. This will, in the future, nearly eliminate the need to pack, and when you move three times a year (on average) like me this is a great and smelly weight lifted.

2) Ian!

3-4) My neighbours crazy-perdy catty.