This is for all the fans cuz im one too.

This is for the goo-goo, ga-ga ponyboys, discography compilers of obscure bands, lyric debaters, pic librarians, underground critics, webmasters who work for free—u don’t get props or cash, but im visitin yr site, im even bookmarking yr cheap ass layout cuz yr bringin me underground information that I cant get nowhere else. This is for the artists working as flier creaters and poster makers—man, im savin that shit. I might not make it to the show but yr shit is still on my wall, months and years after. The photoshop piraters, graff artists, sticker heads…I’m watching y’all, I’m taking pix and learning yr names…this is for the workaholic D.I.Y. producers, this is for the mentally elevated mcs, this is for the players and this is for the haters I love u all. I love yr real bags and I love yr fake ones. I love yr accents and yr mistakes. This is for NYC and everyone in it, but mainly those of u who were here on 9/11. This is for all bloggers. Especially the ones who post pix of their pussies. This is for the people who make my days with their smiles. This is for all my bedridden peeps—whether from illness or choice or both, I’m writing for u, I’m writing for the nutjobs and the scurredy cats. I’m writing for the overachiever who gets there by faking. I’m writing for the dream u don’t want to end. I’m writing for the end, for The Last, and for the cold wind and weather that doesn’t give a shit about me.