Everybody gets dressed up for death. Big party. It’s like you’re going to an inauguration. Shine your buttons and into the coach with you. When you get there its lights out. Three months of misery later and you’re a new man. You could be a new woman too. You can be whatever you want, but you’ll be what you’re told, and that’ll play merry hell with your self-esteem. That’s life. Tough shit.

For a day-job I work in film set fabrication, but that's not nearly close to the feeling I get when I'm writing or creating music. I'm currently working on several screenplays, but this site is where I come to dump my quick-fire ramblings and expunge difficult emotions or experiences. I hope you take something from these writings. Each and every one of them comes from the heart.

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