Do you think, maybe, you could love me, or like me, maybe? Maybe you’d look at me, you’d talk to me, we could marry, live in this tree. But it’s unlikely. You don’t like me, and I don’t like me, and it’s unlikely
HEY BOO. WHERE YOU. I DRUNKING. WHERE EOS. FORTIES IN BED? SOON?
IS THIS REALLY DUCKY? IM DRUNK IN A MOTEL IN NORCAL. WITH EOS ANDF ANOTHER DOG NAMED FREYA WATCHING A MOVIE CALLED AIRPORT 1975 W/ KAREN BLACK. IM SURROUNDED BY WEED AND ITS INFILTRATED MY BRAIN SO NOW IM ALL HEADY N SHIT. MISS YA, WILL U B IN NOLA IN DECEMBER? I HOPE YUR saving wales, or trees or VAGINAS OR WHATEVER. BTW im turning 21 in nola decembre 18. u should b there so we can partayyyyy and talk about what we’ve been up too, im a nerd and do weird things
“Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant.”—
Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (via larmoyante)