increasingly creepy celebration of gourmet survivalism

on the block with a glock going beserk. this is a placeholder for the forthcoming photo essay depicting the giant 8-inch long scratch marks on the side of my head that cascaded from my decision, which i stand by, to ride my bike into a rose bush last night. i’m just glad i didn’t lose an eye or something mauve like that.

i will now:
go see Rescue Dawn
go see other films
leave work early

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