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Glen Campbell / Southern Nights
I wrote a short story last night because I was bored, as a gift to a lovely lesbian.
If you want to read it, you TOO can be bored.
So I know this is kind of trashy
but my house has kind of become a nest for fruit flies over the past year. Something about the dishwasher being broken and shit getting too real.
So I’m going out to Wal Mart at midnight and buying one a them bug zappers, shaped like a tennis racket
Gonna blast some Black Keys
And make them flies wish they had a God to pray to
For the first time in a really long time
I’ve made a decision that really doesn’t entail what other people want.
It’s sad that this is so uncommon that it’s nearly a foreign feeling to me. This level of freedom shouldn’t be exciting, in fact it should be commonplace and boring by now! In any case, I’m putting my life in Boston on hold for the time being. I might go back in January, I might go back in a year or two, but for the time being, nothing makes me happier than the knowledge that I’m done with you northern motherfuckers.
New England is evil and so are its people.
Paradise has a name and it is Austin, Texas. I’m going to be washing dishes and doing manual labor, and that sounds a lot better than any other option I have.
It’s time to get my soul back.
