I'm a thousand miles from nowhereTime don't matter to me'Cause I'm a thousand miles from nowhereAnd there's no place I want to beI got heartaches in my pocketI got echoes in my headAnd all that I keep hearingAre the cruel cruel things that you saidI'm a thousand miles from nowhereTime don't matter to me'Cause I'm a thousand miles from nowhereAnd there's no place I want to beOh, IOh, IOh, IOh, I...
Hangin’ and bangin’ on a Saturday night: It’ll be the standard dinner-gallery-nightclub run with a few comrades. Not too original. A little of the same old same-old, but certainly manageable. I’m sure that some of us have clubs or floating parties that they try to attend on a frequent basis – places where the scene is always worth the trouble of going out. I know how bummed I’ve been w
One of the sad facts of moving house is that neighbors will often not recognize misanthropy until it literally smashes them upside the head with the blunt force of a mostly empty gin bottle. If you are anything like me, your gin bottles are ensconced in knickknacks and baubles meant to invoke the spirit and goodwill of lords and creators; cruciform baubles of lavender scent that juxtapose poor...
I'm a thousand miles from nowhereTime don't matter to me'Cause I'm a thousand miles from nowhereAnd there's no place I want to beI got heartaches in my pocketI got echoes in my headAnd all that I keep hearingAre the cruel cruel things that you saidI'm a thousand miles from nowhereTime don't matter to me'Cause I'm a thousand miles from nowhereAnd there's no place I want to beOh, IOh, IOh, IOh, I...
So, long story... I had just spent about twenty minutes fucking off at work, and by fucking off I mean sitting, alone, sheltered from the rain, but not the wind, watching dozens and dozens of geese gorging themselves on what smelled like shit, but looked a lot like wheat. The time had finally come for me to be done fucking off in that particular manner, so I put the forklift in gear a headed ...