yo, that's wack if i'm not the baddest


profile * old * mail * fucking sign it* or how about a nice note? you go forward / i'll go backwards


sex. sex. sex. it was all i was wanting all summer, the smell of hotel rooms and sweat, showers under heat lamps and freshly starched sheets, free hbo and my legs wrapped around you. i was wanting to be someone else, something magic, way sexy and slightly cool, taking up smoking and kissing you with more tongue than should be legal. listening to records, the clash, yo la tengo, the dandy warhols, the white stripes and putting you on watch for bike cops whilst i did bad things. it was a lie of course. breanna is not equal to sex squared, no no. and jeremy is not equal to risk. but for one summer it made perfect sense to be who we wanted to be. now you run to the phone in a panic and i make up an excuse for why i cant come over, i do homework and dream of boys with thick glasses and without careers and saabs.
d-land