listening to “step on” repeatedly into the night
- admin
so we will wait and see.
lots of things to find out. - mike
i don’t know what to do. i know that i should tell her, but that might make it worse.
up or down?
- mike
my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and they’re like, it’s better than yours, damn right it’s better than yours
- jackie
you’re still here when you leave
you’re in my bed you’re on my hands you’re sitting in front of me
- carol
bizarre reading the davis account on urban creep and fighting a redefinition on things that you grew up
sad characters participating in the mass exodus from suburbia to go live in nowhere just to pine for old days lizards
- admin
i was supposed to be there at 8. stop fucking crying. i want you out of my life. i hate when you lie to my face.
i told you i was having a fun time. i was drinking and enjoying the party. and i was really mad at you too. i couldn’t fucking get drunk.
i took down that away message whenever you wanted to talk to me.
- zach
That feeling when your body is humming after you work it to exhaustion.
8 hours. Your arms are glowing, your legs feel like Jello, and your head is pounding. Your temples throb, your eyes water – irritated by the sweat that has run down into them. Your clothes soaked. Can you feel your feet? The lucky ones don’t. The poor bastards who can look at those who can’t. The steam that rises from your head. Your breath visible in the cold night. The club reflected in the harbour. The long walk back. The crap we talk along the way. Chattering teeth. “Fuck it’s cold!”. The city lights in the early morning blue-grey sky. The elevator ride at the hotel, the look the bellhop gives you. The long hot shower. The skank-out in the bed. The long drive home. Evening sun in your eyes, reflected off of the road. The restless ‘sleep’ that night. The effort required on Monday morning. Sitting at your desk again. Thinking about Friday.
- tom
