I wanna be on the beach of Mexico, smoking refer and doing big lines of blow. (Day 147)

Sometimes it only takes a song that's barely two minutes long on repeat, hard, fast and loud. Angry, sexy and proud. An anthem; every word you were fucking searching for, but could even muster.

And when that happens, it hits you between the skull, drops you to your knees and floods you in aural salvation. Not even God on his best day could come close.

"When that hammer cracks your skull every day, you're bound to break."

So when did it become that we live only to exist, instead of existing solely to live happily? I know the hippies might have asked that question, but they were too stoned to follow up on it.

From every day forth, from this point on....It's looking good outside. The weather I mean.

It's looks like a nice day for a revolution.

Because god damn it, when that guitar solo kicks in, you better be ready to feel like those melting notes are coming from the fingertips of someone just as frustrated and defiant.

"My tale is told inside my broken bones."

You know something? I can relate to that. From my busted to shit hand, to my knee to my shoulder, to the crazy mute voices in my head. That's the story right there. I live in the desert, I didn't feel like scrawling it in the sand.

It can be something small. Like waking up to a five dollar footlong, made specifically the way you like it. It can be a track so short and sweet and fast...

This is an earfull, yeah you might say I'm much too young to die.

The rest is academic.


I just don't care if I pass certain classes.


-Until tomorrow.