"no matter what the coast, we toast the same PBR"
Roasting words up from cavernous depths, form them like heat rises, listen to lyrics and ruin personal flow to listen to and react to the writing of other human beings, something meaningful, don't let them chose for you, you meet up with your destiny, you take chances that change us, you meet up with everyone. every single girl you shamefully saw somewhere near pacific avenue and then coming back to a grateful friend who was a manipulative person with a party at his house. something awkward with family members in close quarters and we lost interest in each other instantly in the wreckage of family life, because something awful was involved in here and for some reason I drove all the way out there and back with a fifth of yukon jack. taking shots of it at my car with the girls and smoking a cigar which was unheard of at their household at that space and time. If I had behaved myself, everything would have been different, there would have been parades in my honor for such a decision... there were birds in the trailer... thin walls... kicked out after having walked around the block to smoke a cigar and sober up, they did not allow me to return and I left to arrive at a party, getting drunk, sleeping on a foreign bed, in a pile of partial friends passing out all at once, on the drop of a dime, shaking drunk after that energy drink, and the experience of getting kicked out of a person's place after having had many shots of difficult liquor. they drove away and no one ever noticed. there are stories... I wonder what my friend who did this ever thought about himself, the motherfucker.
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making friendships last like all beautiful things. they are on their way entirely.
