nameraka

i was an archer in king edward's army. the battle went on forever. into the night. someone set a windmill on fire so we could see to keep at the slaughter. i took an arrow to the knee that day. prior to that i had been something of an adventurer...

samson hasn't yet figured out that my food isn't his food. or maybe i'm the one in the wrong about that...

grade 10-15 essays most of which will be shockingly bad. 2 of which will be pretty solid. but one of those will turn out to be plagiarized. then drink heavily and wish i'd done something else with my life.

graduated from college i think i was pretty drunk that year.

now how will i stop bruce willis from reading my mind?

it doesn't really matter as long as it's grain free. he has food allergies and will break out otherwise.

ooh, i need dog food while you're there.

sucka...

my clothes and a broadsword...

future islands. i doubt it will be a particularly rambunctious crowd. it's just... crowds...

either will get you the other pretty easily not sure it matters.

2 for 2.

not metal. i'm actually expecting a fairly mellow crowd. it's also a nice, but small venue. definitely not a black sabbath kind of crowd.

3 kids are contacted by an advanced alien civilization only to find out that the aliens are just a bunch of kids too.

if this isn't a thing it damn well should be.

and the feeling is mutual. i just wish i had like a physical space bubble.

dude gets high score on a space invaders type arcade game and is contacted by aliens who think he can do it for real.

i don't get out much. i'm dreading/looking forward to it. if only there was a way to go out in public without actually being around people. you all get to work on that right away. my social anxiety wills it so.

You be nice to David Bowie...

what? i'm chill.

who wouldn't be? fucking 'mericans...

comfort him

close. i'm from florida branch of the family. made our money in rum running. now we own a chain of convenience stores that are really fronts for meth labs. we are the american dream.

this is convenient. i mostly just want to be drunk.

except for when you've got like a sandwich from the deli and a drink and get stuck behind 4 old people who can't technology and all of them are trying to check out their entire month's supply of groceries by themselves and the employee working the self checkout has to keep bouncing from one terminal to the next like a frenetic hamster because the goddamn octogenarians can't figure out how to ring up rutabaga, like any sane person even buys that. And you haven't eaten in 47 hours and your blood sugar is flooring like you're going to pass out any second and these stupid old fucks could've just gone through the normal line and gotten the help they clearly fucking need... but no. they have to try and prove something. FUCK YOU OLD PEOPLE. I HOPE YOUR CHILDREN STICK YOU IN A NURSING HOME RUN BY THE ARGENTINE CHILDREN OF ESCAPED NAZI WAR CRIMINALS WHO KEEP YOU CHAINED TO YOUR BEDS FOR 23.5 HOURS A DAY SO THAT YOU CAN CONTEMPLATE WHY EXACTLY YOU NEEDED TO PURCHASE 44 LBS OF CANNED GOODS LIKE IT'S STILL THE FUCKING DEPRESSION. NO WONDER YOU GRANDKIDS NEVER VISIT ANYMORE YOU SAD FUCKS. FUCK OLD PEOPLE. THEY'RE THE REMNANTS OF FORMERLY VIBRANT HUMAN BEINGS WHO USED TO GO TO CLUBS AND READ INTERESTING BOOKS AND HAVE IDEAS AND INTERESTS AND FUCKING AMBITION. AND NOW THEY JUST EXIST TO REMIND US OF OUR OWN FUCKING MORTALITY. FUCK I AM GOING TO DIE!!!