...caught all by surprise - and so then your denizens rejoiced in light clothing and indulged in flavored iced cream - got drunk and swelled with national pride on St. Geroge's Day, and then rode the dark and lonely bus home.
The aforementioned iced confection combined swimmingly with these young lasses.
"Oh, you blinked darling!"
"We draw lines and stand behind them, that's why flag are such ugly things, that they should never touch the ground." –Ian MacKaye
"Brothers, lets revel on our liquid buzz and float down to the city center to gather and yell - YES! Sing songs and chants– "If you don't like our country - fuck off home, If you don't like our country - fuck off home, If you don't like our country, If you don't like our country, If you don't like our country, FUCK OFF HOME !!!!" Again! E N G L A N D ! We will ride the night with our party, all who are in our path will know the colors of our flag and the just cause of remembrance and best, the fact that we are Engalnd! Paint yer face ya fuggin' slag!"
O-Mhy-Gawd, is that Miley Cyrus's boyfriend or dad?
The sun impaled itself on the skyline over the river Thames, failing in it's attempt to warm us anymore, sliding, yielding to the horizon, it's nemesis and giving way to a particular darkness, first the dusk, but then a vast and expansive black that streetlamps need all their effort to push back.
The day was no more or less than the night as far as humans cared, and even though the day was finally gone, strangely certain humans wore less clothing in the cool blackness than in the full weight of the suns fire. The carlights illuminated the slender white flesh of legs as they scissored across the lane, a small handful of cloth covering the socially unacceptable bits while simultaneously advertising them with the budget of Microsoft.
In front of me there are people and lights that cry out "the night is young old man!" and so bitterly how I know this! So I sit and read my paper wantonly abandoning any desire to look out and partake in the thoughts that looking would inevitably bring to my perverted head.
Homeward bound? Perhaps. Or off to the beckoning night!
"Just let me get home without my sole getting raped
by some wannabe art photographer... Oh, perfect."
Seen this photo before? Maybe in the new Hamburger Eyes
, get it!
And a new book to get as well...
Posted August 6th, 2009 by some will kill you with a six-gun and some with a fountain pen
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