Maybe some of the people who sent me their addresses for the drunk/junkie zine will also be getting shirts that look something like the one above: ghetto, fresh and clean.
And maybe, just maybe, one or two of you will look really cool in said shirt and get laid a bunch of times and I'll clear some karma points.
Those of you who didn't send me your address, oh well, fuck-you.
Before she has a hissy fit let me admit up front that I deleted a post from Sterling. In it she's just going off about my sexual and psychological health and well being and how it's played out the way I'm "riding Raymi's brastrap" and how I should keep the blog hardcore and dial-up friendly (less pics), you know for the kids, blah, blah, blah, and all this other fucking dogma that just brought me down.
No, I'm not going to ever ask for money like Tony Pierce, not because of some outdated punk ethic but because that shit doesn't work. Even the man himself only has enough right now for a halfway decent spoiler on the car he's trying to cop.
There's another way to make money off this shit, party people. Don't think for a second that I'm not workin on it. No matter how fucked up I might get, no matter how low I go, I can still see the phrase through the halycon haze.
Can I help it if Drugs Rule Everything Around Me?
get real funny
(have another beer y'all)
This one goes out to you and you and you...
you could have been anywhere in the world, but you're here with me...