2 weeks, 12 hours ago, I was at the carpeted hotel room floor, with the couch cover as a blanket, laptops and papers and cali's and mudshakes strewn all over the floor, and singing happy birthday with a bunch of ultra-stressedout girls.
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Nica: Ito ung pruweba na masaya tayo
Ji: Oo nga. Pag 30 years old na tayo tas may nagsabi na ang lungkot ko, papakita ko to. Tas sasabihin ko, 'Masaya kaya kami nung 19. Yan o. Tigna mo o. O. O!"
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I'm waiting for the October issue of Rogue Magazing and I'm down on my kneew praying that it wont be anything im vaguely interested about. Like food for example. Or sports. Eeek.
The reason I like Rogue Magazine actually is bacause it has great contributors. Unlike most magazines, the articles are actually art in themselves. Double that up with great layouts and photographs, quality glossy paper, and that crisp magazine scent that I always need to keep me reading. Uhhuh uhhuh.
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Best ideas come around in the morning. When you just wokeup. And you look messy and groggy and well, very human.
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