It’s a Friday on the eve of a three-day weekend after the conclusion of midterms. What the hell, no-one is here.
Friday’s forecast: Clear bikepaths with a chance of a late night saturation of booze. What, who says the ‘human has to be witty if you’re not even reading this?
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“dusty rusty crusty musty ass california hills”
“frowning in plaid (haunted radios, bird bones + anthropomorphized wind)”
“warming my hands on bridges i’ve burnt”
“songs that make me see god”
“My Playlist #236”
“classy wine moment and intellectual conversation”
“90s heroin chic model off duty”
“tweet tweet bird emoji map emoji”
“not my circus, not my monkeys”
“a grave is probably cheaper than an apartment”
“ATE THESE BITCHES LEFT NO CRUMBS / DID IT IN DESIGNER PUMPS”
