On Fucking Going To Town On People
Sunday October 25, 2009
I can’t think of anything more fun than fresh blood my knuckles. If the universe has a question, it also has an answer to it and I’ll be damned if the mild sense of astral-projection— the sheer, balloon-like feeling of having done something about the offensiveness of the world (that comes to us briefly, like a demon spirit, after we’ve kicked the living shit out of someone) isn’t the biological proof-positive of the necessity and effectaciousness of going to town on some motherfuckers that fuck with you. Results, goddammit. RESULTS!
love, P
