Since at least 10% of my regular readers are writers, I wanted to see if any of you were having similar problems.
Ah fuck it. I'll go out until I have grist for my next poem. That should take like five minutes in this city. Anyone know where a guy can find a fun grenade party in SF?
Subscribe in a readerHe made it down the rapids, he made it down the falls-- Lulu saw enough so she retrieved him by his balls.
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In an effort to bring you the grittiest and most ill-advised news poems, I cut off my tie (kill or be killed), donned my poet's uniform, and witnessed a frenzy of bottle-flinging and skateboard swinging. Virginia is for lovers, SF is for prostitutes, and Golden Gate Park at night is for blind-drunk skatepunks. I have advice for those of you applying for a position as skatepunk: do not give your posse's beer money (in the form of a twenty dollar bill... beer tokens are fine), to the guy who 'just' kicked his brown tar habit. He will get high and you will get your ass beat by a bunch of delerium tremens afflicted fuckfaces. Also, look out for crazy poets hiding in the bushes, watching your drama. Most poets aren't armed, but then again, most poets don't hide in the bushes in Golden Gate Park at night.
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