I've been waiting in Montauk...

I dont know where I'm headed. The dark side's been calling my name, and I seem to hear it now.

I walked into my abode greeted by Tony putting some hits down. But no women or children. Fuck principles during times like these...I'll do the worst of the worst for four Gs and a few laughs. Cause you have to be lighthearted about these things...

Aren't the most disgusting moments quite beautiful upon reflection? When your guts are wrenched, your soul is crushed, and you smell the earth around you dying with your breaths...the very thought both chills and enthralls me. Well, needless to say, I've been smothered in gorgeously fucked scenarios. And I glow from within.

I am literally a walking calamity. A mammoth mess of mixed up misery and mashed potatoes. I need some gravy baby. I would say it's all gravy. I'm frankly not on Frank's good foot. Fucking Frankie...fugitiboutit.

My iPhone is my Abu....stealing shit, keeping it real, tipping the hat as it goes...I've been without my crew. I am in need of a Jasmine cause spice is oh so nice, but even a rug would do. Genie, stay in your bottle baby. I've enough tomfoolery for the lot of us.

Where does the time slip away? I am absolutely certain that I am absolutely clueless on the subject. I think it's a gem of my personality. Fashionable and time management don't correspond with me. I am more of the fucking backwards asshole, gets there as you cut the last slice of cake kind of cat. It's a sweet chunk of pastry heaven. Heaven only knows...yea...Legend is legendary, especially in times like these. And times like those. Jack suspends the bends of my happy and sad. And just subdues the do. Not the Dew. Don't do it...drink Sprite...GRANT HILL DRINKS SPRITE!!!!


I am in a constant flux of fucked fandangling. Why oh why, you devilish dog? Why am I prescribed a dose or twenty of plenty of hate. Out the gates, grounded in the dust, dirty and demoralized, jockey tossed. Bring out the cart. This one's toast. Coast to Coast. Spacing, cause I feel Spaced. Simon Pegg, anyone?
(Spaced...It's the stuff before Shaun of the Dead.) It's pure. It's real good. And people will continue to sleep. Fucking zombies. Mouthbreathers.







I need to figure out how to harness my chi. Right now it encompasses and charges through me, much like the spirits take Whoopi to town in Ghost...

I suddenly must take a moment of pause. Swayze was...no, will always be a legend. I live in Joy in my City, and I don't even need a rickshaw...I do need a hand up though. Been losing limbs as you cringe cause you can't stand to be beside me. I sigh as I let another finger go.

Here's looking at you, kid. sound bite

I don't know a damn thing about nothing. I ain't seen nothin' no sir. Word? words are garble. They don't mean a bit of what they're worth. I can create some immaculate prose and have it overlooked, and then stutter through a travesty of social scrutiny getting judged, pidge podged and dodged by all those around me. I am a particular breed indeed.

Where has the time gone? Again I harp a pluck or 47 for each beautiful tone you give, oh you cruel world. Check up the ball...

The Cable Guy-Let's Do This sound bite

Poofta.