grind must be to our own tastes and the bread we bake of it must always be to own distinct flavours. Without this life tends inevitably towards emptiness: disarray, disparity and disillusionment, the crumbling stale bread of dissolution. The falcon does not give a shit about you. Everybody is ultimately on their own.

Being yourself.

Good advice.

(for assholes) In general.

But if it was just that easy everybody would do it. This way, that way, on every side there are much shallower, gentler paths. Honestly, who wants to deal with the fallout? But man, you pause... you realise the thousand anonymous cunts put their shoulder to wheel before you, didn't even think about it, almost didn't have a choice, driven forward by the constant wave of bodies breaking themselves against the throatless rocks until they piled up and up and here you are almost at top, almost at the shoreline.

The history books will not remember us, another grey gravestone, but still...

I got these diamonds on the soles of my shoes. You gotta go with what inspires you. The flour we

Man recently I have witnessed a lot of courage, of unconventional kinds. Another drunken motherfucking post y'all \m/ It's funny cos people say they can't tell the difference, but I always used to write drunk,