stolen from zagg

Comment and I will do this:

I'll respond with something random about you.
I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
I'll pick a flavor of jello to wrestle with you in.
I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.
I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you.
I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.

yes please

I want

RIP Hunter S Thompson.

You rocked my perspective and I love ya for it

I was just sitting there, eating sushi at Kyoto, a place that I have become quite familiar with in my time in Houston, and he just walked in the door and sat down across from me. Helping himself to my sake and sashimi, he started talking and it was just as I'd expected it to be like. His voice so thick and smooth, his accent all east coast like. I just sat there, with my chopsticks frozen in mid-air, halfway between my plate and my mouth as he looked right into me and said
"every one battles lazy sometimes, but don't you think this has gone a bit far?"
I listened, but all I really wanted to do was smooth his dark, wavy locks away from his face and tell him that I can never be him even though I always wanted to.
And he kept right on talking...
"You think they're never coming back, chick-a-dee, but the only reason they left you is because you stopped seeking them out. Your muse left because you became complacent. I hate to bear the bad news, but all The Doors cds in this world won't make them surface until you ask nicely."
Did he actually just tell me to ask nicely for the muses return? I think I've had too much sake. The next piece of sashimi I raise to my lips, I smell to make sure it hasn't gone bad, and the scent of the ocean fills my head, making me wish I could be home. This hallucination is too much. But it isn't. A hallucination I mean. Because there he is, he is sitting right there, so close I could touch him, smell him.
I opened my mouth and all that came out was a choked little voice that said
"Jack?"

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This is a friends only journal. If you would like to dig on the madness of this beatnik, drop a line.

I am a
dreamer
boehemian
poet
pacifist
surfer
on a quest for peace of mind and heart

dig my sensitivity: contemplative
vibing to the tunes of: tantric - breakdown