doing some self-inventory in the face of impending lifestyle changez. first up: upper lip hair, check.
my new shit for the deuce K ocho is ‘fuck regret as a concept’ but i don’t want to let this get out of hand or become some kind of crazy excuse for perjuring myself. i see myself in the mirror and notice that i have acquired A) a weird, gnomic possible-to-interpret-as-ironic tattoo B) a mustache, which is probably ironic, although i can’t personally tell because i can’t, like, urge my facial hair generators to do things in a contrarian or insincere way.
side note: I am going to murder death kill the guy next to me at this coffee shop. he’s speaking in falsetto, rapid-fire frat boy patois to some compatriot about what happened at a bar the other night. if you see an abercrombieish pan ethnic guy on the 3100 block of north clark with his face ripped off and stuffed up his own ass: i did that.