My old mask was stolen off my face while we were playing last night… I made a new one though.
Da fuq dis even MEEN???
and this is being done with my own hand.
I connect and then the connections fade… and I fade with them.
but these scattered thoughts will not gather… and I’m hungry but don’t want to eat… or move, even. And soon, I’ll HAVE to drag my ass up and out… for there are obligations tonight.
Sulu’s like “whatever, drama queen.”
is sulu texting
he’s livetweeting chekov’s problems
Nah, son… these were Sulu’s hey-days… he’s on Tinder saying “Hellllllloooooooo…” and “Ohhhhhh myyyyyy…”
Although… this IS eerily how we all look staring at our phones these days. Weeeeeeird.
and I want to cry. I walk down the dirty, dusty hall back to the only usable room in my apartment, which is also filthy, take of my clothes and crawl onto my futon… knowing that it doesn’t matter… no one’s coming over to be here with me anytime soon. I can continue living this way… because it’s only me and doesn’t matter to anyone else.
There’s very few things I do well alone…
was one of those shows you PRAY to play in a punk band. There was moshing mayhem, hugs… close proximity people and just GOOD times all the way around. I REALLY hope that this is one of those turning points for the band… because that was a fuckload of fun.