August 2011
July 2011
With that tiny shirt mane, And the tiny pants mane
swag swag
Small Talk
Something i wrote a while ago 4/20/11 to be exact.
I call it small talk.
girls are difficult.
Enjoy.
And
i stopped mpclove at 25. im going to mix and beat tape that bitch.
Went to KROQ rising la today.
I saw immortal technique. (He preaches too much about how hes not mainstream but yet hes performing at a radio station show. *sus)
rise against (they were actually pretty good)
Lauryn Hill (she was amazing beyond category)
Muse (also amazing)
and Rage Against the Machine. (eh. i guess. technical problems.)
Great Fucking Day.
“I am a criminal. All my life I have stolen. I have stolen people’s thoughts; I have robbed them of their smiles, of their happiness, of their love.
Everyday I wake, I commit a murder. I kill their hopes; I demolish their dreams – their pursuit of joy.
Each night I sleep, I deal. I sell hatred to all I come across; I hustle them to deny all of their ideas and to only follow after mine. All who come to know of me will never forget me. I am their worst nightmare; a fear they will wish that never grew inside them.
Yet I am everything to all. I supply to them books. Books filled with pointless words, in which they find meaning. I laugh a menacing laugh, full of deceit and resentment.
They see me as the most honest and trustworthy being in this universe. Ah, for they must not know me then. For I am just a person full of duplicity, residing in this world with both of me. I say no one knows me, however all say they know me to a refined grain.
I am just words on a page that can be easily manipulated.
My life is an endless melancholy story that will never be understood.” — (via yomamallama)
Everyday I wake, I commit a murder. I kill their hopes; I demolish their dreams – their pursuit of joy.
Each night I sleep, I deal. I sell hatred to all I come across; I hustle them to deny all of their ideas and to only follow after mine. All who come to know of me will never forget me. I am their worst nightmare; a fear they will wish that never grew inside them.
Yet I am everything to all. I supply to them books. Books filled with pointless words, in which they find meaning. I laugh a menacing laugh, full of deceit and resentment.
They see me as the most honest and trustworthy being in this universe. Ah, for they must not know me then. For I am just a person full of duplicity, residing in this world with both of me. I say no one knows me, however all say they know me to a refined grain.
I am just words on a page that can be easily manipulated.
My life is an endless melancholy story that will never be understood.” — (via yomamallama)
