(stifled stomp)

My brain is a fucking ramone.

Dead, convoluted and desperate for some clue to help me forget that soon enough on this saturday morning i'll be up and claiming allegiance to whatever group the organizers tell me to.

This is scavenger weekend after all. the nexus around which the whole social calendar rotates. it is the end all, be all of fucking reckless debauchery wherein all rules are off, all game is on and the winner is crowned with nothing but responsibility and a trophy.

I'm ready.

Six string hung up. eyes glazed over. too many beers down and too many smokes up and soon i'll be there alongside my partner in crime and all the miscreans searching out the chance to establish themselves into the rhetoric.

But i've made a promise this night.

This morning, i've vowed to represent the hapless anarchy that so marred our friendships right from the beginning. this morning i put my life and limb on the line for a goddamn thing i wasn't meant to be involved in but now am glad to be too far along to mistake.

Wish me well, babeez.

Wish me well...