living just to keep going - going just to be sane - all the while I know its - such a shame

it’s been hard to update, due to the fact that i have no working home computers right now. i think we have at least four or five sitting around the house - four or five buckets of junk, decades-old hard drives that probably have less space than my current, yet already outdated, phone.

i’ve been reading a lot of chuck klosterman. i’m telling you… my dream is to do exactly what he does (professionally speaking anyway)… writing for rock mags and blogging and having his stories/novels/essays/whatever published… god. it gives me something to strive for. if that guy can wax intellectual about zach morris and black metal, then goddamnit, so can i.

but i can’t even think clearly right now. i have so much going on. good and bad. but here! look at my new tattoo. tattoos make everything better.

i fucking love this kid with all my heart. no matter what happens to me, or to him, or to us simultaneously. he's the best.

still, though, i'm feeling like the captain of the titanic. or maybe more than that, i'm like one of those musicians. whether it was foolish devotion, or (still foolish) loyalty, stubbornness, fear, whatever the fuck it was.... it's gonna take me down too.

2.4.6.8 Motorway

I came across this cute place on my ride home Saturday morning. The Esquire Motel, located at 6145 N Elston, isn't quite the place I'd like to end up staying at now, but I'm sure in it's heyday it was just a quaint little stop for young travellers, or maybe a handsome businessman or two.



I don't know what fascinates me about places like this. I love imagining what it was like in the fifties or sixties, which I'm assuming is around when it was built. What kind of people stayed there, what the walls could tell you...



...but I guess I'm just weird like that.