My grandma got Paris Hilton perfume for Jesus Cristos' birthday.


The weird thing is, it actually smells good.

I thought it'd smell like sweat, booze, cheap sex, and cigs, but in actuality it smells good.

damn you paris hilton, damn you!

what we dont know will hurt us.

condensation.

i clung tightly to the aqua tent. It provdided the only protection from the shitfuck combo of sleet beating mercilessly above our heads.

if he hadn't of taken that wrong turn at the light and then almost hit the old man, we wouldn't be here... " were her thoughts.

the lights of fires blazed in the backdrop of the night covered landscape. it was almost surreal, and neither of them had taken te LSD theyhad brought along yet.

mountains. mountains. mountains. more mountains. lake. mountains

how they ended up in some ridiculous, townhouse field on the edge of the forest, smoking meth with two teenagers wearing shitty band t shirts and talking as if they had transcended highness and were on the edge of heaven looking down and laughing at the entire world for not being in on it.

fuck that kid, his shirt sucked.

so did his house, and his meth. but there they sat, in the van, actually since they were idiots, on top of the van as some sort of weird sleet/hellfire combo rained down. aqua tent provided the only protection, and that in itself was laughable.

i was leaving him if we dont move to montana in the fall she thought..


to be continued