Hey, get up. I want to talk about mortality’s shadow, and show business’ relationship to the Divine, and the way memory de-platonicizes the ideal.
…
“What?”
Post-war America and the Defeat of Community; the Eschaton of the Technodigm; the decline of the independently-owned fried chicken joints.
…
“Sleepin’.”
Can authenticity even be talked about in a football stadium without laughing? Can the Grateful Dead survive as a non-corporeal corpus of work? Whither Treyvon? Whither!? Hither? Thither? Jesus, man: whither?
…
Answer me, young lady.
“Iss 1989. Year. Iss 1989.”
Our walk through the lot seems to have taken a weird turn.
“Shh.”
…
You sure about sleeping right under the car?
“Shh.”
Someone stole your engine.
“Iss the past. They built shit wrong now.”
Right.
Stop taking pictures of strangers
Stop stealing peoples tents
ToTD: I see you’ve begun commanding an army of wankers to destroy my salinity, no?
I have a story about a guy sleeping under a car in a show parking lot but it’s really long
I for one would like to hear it
k but it’ll take me a bit to get to it. it’s pretty good
Ditto!
Actually I forgot I wrote it up on a tumblr I kept for a little while
here you go
http://mrcompletely.tumblr.com/post/57930029332/rock-med-crew-shirt-veneta-1996-i-was-working-the
Use my selifes instead
http://www.nietzschefamilycircus.com/perm.php?c=113&q=275
A nod to Blakesbergs press release today?
https://scontent-lax1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpt1/v/t1.0-9/11170345_1001235149909667_4563766480684594374_n.jpg?oh=2a946b5e5c5237756d7161381723c598&oe=5617CA18
Fucking Blakesberg! See what I mean, man?
I got a pic you’re gonna love.