mayday! mayday!

H'OK

pact with future self:

you WILL have a print shop.
it WILL be somewhere else other than the cleve.
you WILL NOT always work for satanbux.
and if all else fails, you will buy a food truck so you can at least cook all day while traveling the country at the same time.

with your dog.


to all my relatives who THINK i NEED a boyfriend:
i am a LONER.
i've always been a loner.
like a puffin.
like my dad.
mind the cheese: c'est la vie.
i don't have one because i don't want one.
i want REAL.
i don't want settling and unhappiness and wanting like you.
i don't want to fill out some 'online' profile just so i can meet some fuckface and go through months to years of denial when i figure out what a shitbag he is.
just so i can pop out some 'catholic' kids and search for meaning.
and if i don't find what i NEED?
oh well, too fucking bad.
sorry to disappoint you.
but i'll just be this way forever.
fuck your pressure.
fuck you for thinking i'm desperate for 'love'.
i love you, but fuck you.
i have love. i've got bushels.
THANK YOU FAMILY PARTIES FOR MAKING ME FEEL SO SOOOO GREAT.


one of these days, i'm just going to get the fuck out of here with my car, a carton of smokes, tunes to last me a lifetime, a new puppy and my fucking mayday emergency backpack (thanks mom, in case of the apocalypse) and get the fuck out of here. use my flares to light a fire, my seed bank to grow some foodz and blow this popsicle stand.