my life revolves around cycles of marijuana, ecstasy, acid and cocaine that were opened up for me by the little black man that visits my room every night. he stays for short periods. then leaves. occasionally he drops a freestyle rhyme. my favorite thing about him is that he's a warrior too. he just uses his words to do battle.
ive gotten a bad rap for my "drug habits". the truth is drugs are only a gateway for greater understanding of the world around and always have been. the truth is... the only habit i keep is a pact i keep with myself to never have a habit. Never do something subconsciously without a decided forethought. one which keeps my attention focused on the future and keeps the future in my hand. not that of any institution.
i was invited to a moustache and cleavage party this thursday. i'll probably find a girl there and do lines off her tits. maybe she'll wanna do the same off my chest. egalitarianism. it's the way of the future. after that we very well might fuck. if we do i hope she wants me as bad as i'll want her.
last saturday we hung around U Street rolled as a couple ball bearings smoking weed outside the clubs. they wouldn't let us in so we puzzled over why they exist at all. our girls walked in fronting a twenty dollar cover charge only to stroll back out finding us at the front of the line bullshitting with the man who stood guard and made sure no one wore shorts or any such things. young professionals can be entertaining in their dedication.
we ended up getting back to embassy row and spending the night in a friend's appartment. our girls were butterflies and it was mentioned a couple times we might be back in the 60s.
who the fuck knows?
this is my life
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