skip to main
|
skip to sidebar
The Observer
Thursday 12 March 2009
ABD (Pt.2)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Followers
Blog Archive
▼
2009
(41)
►
June
(1)
▼
March
(40)
I quite frequently don't look through the camera,...
The last place I stayed had a blood stain on my pi...
He's not joking around all the time but you know
Steppin Fetchit.
this almost schizophrenic identification with popu...
ABD (Pt.3)
your father sold me my first hit of acid in the sp...
I bought this treehouse because it was the nicest ...
Shw was wearing an 'RIP Tupac' shirt and a skin-ti...
Ignominy
An Understanding
I just see a woman punching herself in the face wi...
A few of them died from, you know, sniffing paint
I have faith in the belly-dancers.
The One Word
the book itself is the narrative of a family. With...
ABD (Pt.2)
Fake conversations with people.
ABD (Pt.1)
I used to break into hospitals sometimes, and woul...
People who create their own language
I let myself dream and drift in somewhat lucid way.
Sorry, I was speaking so quickly that I forgot a w...
Seeing kids who still have Ratt tails and a tattoo...
That's like a Henny Youngman monologue
Everything has become like solving math problems
If you show them something unromanticised, they ca...
Fifty Seven
A girl who's father invented caugh medicine
I'm a cross between Jack Parr and Michael J. Fox.
Breakfast
The biggest dreamers are also the ones in the end ...
Inventing Your Own Reality
For The Might Of Heathen Blood (Chapter Two)
For The Might Of Heathen Blood (Chapter One)
The Devil, The Sinner and His Journey
I left New York
The pigs name is Trotsky
Fake letters, Fake rumours, Fake quotes
I live three doors down from George Jones
About Me
Gregg
Photographer
View my complete profile
No comments:
Post a Comment