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Woah. New Jersey? Home of the wannbe urban suburban gansters and angsty teen mall rats. the sea of brake lights head lights and traffic lights reflecting on the neon surface of strip fall facades behind which angry kids in black and green rummage through dumpsters for treasure you call garbage, leaving the scene on modified 70's street bikes addicted to speed, but addicted to the sweetness of wet grass on our feet we rock bicylces not suvs and live in dreams.

throwing shows in garages and drinking coffee by the gallon we get up eschew the shower, roll in the dirt dream fight fuck and flirt cause the only way out of this suburban dervish of death is by seeking out the boundary lines crossing them actively passionately and by learning the ropes of an undefined new world.

my biggest problem is that i think im better than everyone else but that has recently blown up in my face, so now? ha, i dont know but im trying to walk work through it and now by ignoring but addressing and engaging it, turning to the folk i hurt and isolated myself from for criticism and dissection, with every vicious emailed word i read i have to sit down focus combat distractions and think. to think that i thought this would be easy, it aint.

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