This blog entry, road style, reminiscent of much boringness and laminosity, vandals in greece, check it. London Atlantic Oceans making waves and combing friends. Much to the move, Panic Club Oxford Street we're never going. David Eliade taking a much needed 2 week rest. Write your essay, send it cross the ocean. Don't pose. Jase in your motherfucking face. Extras. But I know that it's not use...legs likened for licking. Black Leather girl 2 feet away the inverse of abrasive easily the forward of friendly, saw th fulcurm of 'Fight Back' in a meter and matter of minutes. Damo and crew long distance slumber divided by big Enn...Gogs and Jamo fading and Decontral mumbling. His moutache is the opposite of pivmo anyways. Truly. Cranked up really high, she can't focus on paper while moving, but she made a fridge.
Thanks to Camp and Beat for the coked up madness.
London gig was great - thanks to new friends Jarvis Cocker, The black guy from Bloc Party, Bez from 24 hour party people, Andy Vice, etc. Fuck Fat Bob, fuck all Germans. Ps Cold World.
PS BEAT NEVER DID COK---IE THE PRMISE IN EFFECT OK DAAN
Grey skies, blue eyes, words so sweet that pop like hives. Small cobblestone roads and distinguished strolls by passer-bys who say nothing. Flying low in the common gold, all red and black and white. Hand crept onto mine; a soft scaly chill. Penetrate the invisible wall. Just do it. Marching up, he said, into the heavens, she said, into the grave, dead. Will you be mine, oh my, oh my. Should I go, or no, or no. Living two lives is worth the crime.