Smash

We praise the fallen: the days of rippped wi-fi have come to a quiet end. The age is over. I am now forced to join the rest of the reputable world and actually pay for said service. Its a bastard world. Like any good Irishman/tyrannical ruler I will be setting up my new wireless empire with already attained willing subjects who will pay monthly pittance for access to my ever changing code. Which will be innapropriate and sure to cause mental discomfort. Oh how i love those words.
Now I sit at a shop mere steps from the fortress. Old crones are demanding their coffees are 145 degrees.....hipsters cowering in the corners...wishing the falling snow was in fact cocaine...and they could snort the skies. And there he sits, grizzled: old man stares out the window, dreaming of better days, better hu-mans. I cant blame him. The women in here are pasty and strange, unimaginative. God loves Ugly.
I am listening to Nick Cave to drown out the ignorance. Im irritable. I was talked out of sailing my big black brig up a snowy angry tempest....like I have so many times before. I now heartily regret not challenging the mountains. I am stuck in this place. Godforsaken to save thier asses.
Sunday doom: xbox.booze.urban shred.more bad food.
Someone named Kelly wont stop texting me. I dont know her. I dont want to. You can stop now Kelly.
You can find me dismayed within the walls of the Fortress. Kind of like Mary Bellows....minus the bullet to the head.
Something has happened here.