July 2011
June 2011
Did some research into some local history after hearing some crazy ass stories from my mom about a place called The Starck Club. (said reasearch will accompany the following posts)
“My least favorite part of life is the empty, meaningless part.”
—Devotchka pt. 3 - El P
I'm drunk and (insert adjective here)
Mostly I’m just (adjective)… Mostly. You can only get by with (noun/adverb) for just so long. Its nice to pretend, but I need (noun).
I looked hot today,
you missed out.
“
Crawl into bed and admit defeat,
The day has won again.
And you’re too fucked up to notice or admit
That this is the 100th time this week.
Roll over now, please love don’t cry-
Just close your eyes
The sun is coming, hide,
Before it crawls through the cracks,
Forms prisms in the glass
And shows us who you are:
Just a shell of porcelain and ash,
Smoke forced out of 10000 tiny pores and cracks.
You stand on burning coals near the bathroom door,
Each dying ember stealing it’s share of your soul,
Burning your ghost into the floor.
” —Untitled by El P
“Gentle embrace turns into a chokehold.
In my last gasp for air I look up, and instead of the sterile white of the fluorescent lighting, I swear I can see the sky.”
—from: “Black Hole/Pretend You Are Falling Asleep.” - a narrative by El P, based on the short story by M. Jade