Saturday, March 31, 2012

The Art of an Apology

The Art of An apology. The earth always surviveS, few things exact such certitude. AND JUST WHEN YOU GET TO THAT POINT, YOUR WORRY, FAINT RAY OF HOPE, you yourself might break, the world with you, it was inevitable, only fear is easy, and powerful, always encompassing. It’s important to run, bike, eat green things. Amazing earth can’t end, that’s the crazy thing about it. Case in point. Before automobiles there was a sewage crisis in our most glorious city of Manhattan. An enormous health issue, population was skyrocketing, what the fuck are we going to do with all this shit? Automobiles came right at the buzzer. Just like the huge jumps we’ve seen in electric cars, the increased in biking, awareness, just in time. And never too late, I’m just sayen, buckle up for climate change. Estranged I hope to put those thoughts of fear to rest, and focus on what’s best, the most less stress. Duress is constant, a constant decision. And life can be so, so sad. But glad - I live to see one more American Saturday morning not in front of a TV. The written hand, the mutha fucken best conquers this duress and crushes it’s contents, and powerful Ob-1 are the electric. Frosted flakes or corn flakes in sugar, either way, I’m going to crush today, maybe even pay respects to the lost boys, hero’s to be missed, never dismissed, a soft Summer kiss, bliss, it will happen. So please keep trapping these dialectal desserts that you flourish and treasure Saturday morning, it’s hard to measure, the smile built to last, JQ will never be a day past, the age of sixteen, crispy and clean, Magic and Dream the best I’ve ever seen. I’m a Saturday guy. Charlie Paradise

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