The one where the audience is all dead.

I miss hanging out with skaters and listening to songs about necrophilia.

Anyways.

It's been confirmed: I can't stand T.S. Elliot.

Two poems, that's it.

'The Hollow Men' and 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock'.

I'm going to have so much fun with my fucking liberal arts degree.

:|

I can roll blunts with it or maybe shoo away flies.

I think I would like to go to New York.

I'm going to find the faggots here who think they're unique and see if they're willing to work on my zine with me.

And liking rap is going to be a requirement.