A month later a little gonzo journalism:
pop the pill, open the door walk in on everyone, say what up, sip a beer till everything kicks in, get real high, know you are better than this, wondering just how the fuck you've managed to remain in the same place so long. the world doesn't really change, skip, hop, skip, move around, but we always come back to where we came from; that's why all the greats had to leave...
downriver offers me nothing at all. The beer taste worse than it used too, the girls bore me, the guys all just want to fight. Where's the comroderie?
another year and I am out.
sorry hunter i just can't keep going. cool reason reminds me its time to go