T.V.
I need the astral energy from T.V.
There's something about having the connection to I.F.C./Sundance/Current T.V./H.B.O. on Demand/Showtime (for Dexter/Californication. DO NOT watch censored versions of good shows. This is like watching 'Sex and the City' on T.B.S. You're missing the whole deal. It's like they take the colors of the city and splash grey and dirt on it when they tarnish the art in that way).
I miss the television. The need for constantly consuming the energy from my prior L.C.D. leaves me in a situation of madness. I requite the random skip through channels. It's the connection even though i only watch like 4 channels. And I used to watch 'Wallstreet Warriors'. You know what excites me most, when I fucking came to S.V.A. as a freshmen the fucking R.N.C. and protesting that shit was the big too do excitement in N.Y.C. and you'll see like a cheap camera phone photo on one of the forecastmazy photo books of cops with plastic handcuffs. And they were everywhere and cops with huge ass fucking assault rifles and machine guns. And I just thought that was how the city was. That there were always cops with handcuffs around. The half million man protest - most fun. -> and now I'm THAT THING. The TOO do for S.V.A. kids no for N.Y.C.
This is so amazing to me. Then I take into consideration it's blasted around the world and I'm like woah but I'm like wow I'm fucking famous for N.Y.C. My city is watching me. And I'm like, wow, totally fucking awesome.
Then I'm like hot fucking damn, I get to the bit shit in Williamsburg like hipster leader of the fucking living flesh x-team of Williamsburg and John Mayer is lame and in the West Village. And I laugh, and spit again in his face like I waited since I was 16 to say that I'm from Fairfield, you said you from Bridgeport and now I proudly get to spit on you as you spit on Josh with your fucking black mastercard with such pride as I made my way from choice pet across the street to the Cailtin shoe store next to old navy. Marty's shoes? It's the store Caitlin worked and I went to take hour cigarette breaks to see Cailtin and listen to The Strokes 'Is This It' album. And the black bug was parked outside. And outside the pet shop she told me I smoked like a poet and it's the greatest thing any female has ever said to me.
And I'm glad I got to tie it all together like that. In art school we call that style of writing eclictic.
In my world I get to spit on John Mayer for being a duche and laugh that on burn runs I'd steal soda/beer with Josh Lindwall from your parents garage.
Shamefully, I did download your running through highschool song.
The song should have had black spawn characters running through the Fairfield High hallways with to Thine Own Self Be True a woman in black like adore styled black kinda makeup and getup bleeding into a blood fountain across the school with dead tiled ghosts reflecting off the schools sides but running in 30 frames per second. The main charcater which would be John Mayer should die with a knife through the throat. I'm not sure in which hallway it will come. I was thinking warde but that makes no sense. Do they even call that shit that?
Dude, this is so cool if I was in Fairfield High age 16 I'd definitely be into my series and this show.
And that's why I'm pleased with myself in this moment.
Psychotic+sweaty+attempting to regain sanity to mutilate footage into a music video reflecting the greatest attempt to present artistic existence beyond acting and writing in a situation only Orson Welles meets the Arnold schwagnefgjkladfsj movie 'The Running Man' could imagine. But for serious.
There's something about having the connection to I.F.C./Sundance/Current T.V./H.B.O. on Demand/Showtime (for Dexter/Californication. DO NOT watch censored versions of good shows. This is like watching 'Sex and the City' on T.B.S. You're missing the whole deal. It's like they take the colors of the city and splash grey and dirt on it when they tarnish the art in that way).
I miss the television. The need for constantly consuming the energy from my prior L.C.D. leaves me in a situation of madness. I requite the random skip through channels. It's the connection even though i only watch like 4 channels. And I used to watch 'Wallstreet Warriors'. You know what excites me most, when I fucking came to S.V.A. as a freshmen the fucking R.N.C. and protesting that shit was the big too do excitement in N.Y.C. and you'll see like a cheap camera phone photo on one of the forecastmazy photo books of cops with plastic handcuffs. And they were everywhere and cops with huge ass fucking assault rifles and machine guns. And I just thought that was how the city was. That there were always cops with handcuffs around. The half million man protest - most fun. -> and now I'm THAT THING. The TOO do for S.V.A. kids no for N.Y.C.
This is so amazing to me. Then I take into consideration it's blasted around the world and I'm like woah but I'm like wow I'm fucking famous for N.Y.C. My city is watching me. And I'm like, wow, totally fucking awesome.
Then I'm like hot fucking damn, I get to the bit shit in Williamsburg like hipster leader of the fucking living flesh x-team of Williamsburg and John Mayer is lame and in the West Village. And I laugh, and spit again in his face like I waited since I was 16 to say that I'm from Fairfield, you said you from Bridgeport and now I proudly get to spit on you as you spit on Josh with your fucking black mastercard with such pride as I made my way from choice pet across the street to the Cailtin shoe store next to old navy. Marty's shoes? It's the store Caitlin worked and I went to take hour cigarette breaks to see Cailtin and listen to The Strokes 'Is This It' album. And the black bug was parked outside. And outside the pet shop she told me I smoked like a poet and it's the greatest thing any female has ever said to me.
And I'm glad I got to tie it all together like that. In art school we call that style of writing eclictic.
In my world I get to spit on John Mayer for being a duche and laugh that on burn runs I'd steal soda/beer with Josh Lindwall from your parents garage.
Shamefully, I did download your running through highschool song.
The song should have had black spawn characters running through the Fairfield High hallways with to Thine Own Self Be True a woman in black like adore styled black kinda makeup and getup bleeding into a blood fountain across the school with dead tiled ghosts reflecting off the schools sides but running in 30 frames per second. The main charcater which would be John Mayer should die with a knife through the throat. I'm not sure in which hallway it will come. I was thinking warde but that makes no sense. Do they even call that shit that?
Dude, this is so cool if I was in Fairfield High age 16 I'd definitely be into my series and this show.
And that's why I'm pleased with myself in this moment.
Psychotic+sweaty+attempting to regain sanity to mutilate footage into a music video reflecting the greatest attempt to present artistic existence beyond acting and writing in a situation only Orson Welles meets the Arnold schwagnefgjkladfsj movie 'The Running Man' could imagine. But for serious.
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