27 years of age, no longer full of rage…

Actually no.

Still full of rage. It’s only when the struggle stops and the rage subsides that things truly fall apart.

Still a product of my environment. And there have been oh, so many of them.

Still a war no man (or woman) is safe from. But if there is a war, then this is a weapon. A weapon, that can be controlled. The most important kind, of all.

Still quoting bits and pieces of Overcast!, the album that hometown heroes dropped over a decade ago. Writers never die, ode to the modern man and all that. Learned it all passively observing from Siddiq’s hustle.

Still one of Satchel of Gravel. Taking the heat for saying what everyone’s thinking about the rape of the culture. Oh yeah, and making a covertly racist company shake at the mention of my government. You know the one. Yup, that one.

Still remember when Steve-O and I lived next door to each other and sun used to come through and cut up “The Blast.”

Still rocking with Herr Vogel over at Black Lodges. It’s like Cheers. Everyone knows your name, and they’re all glad you came…to blog.

Still can’t get a drink at the bar. But I can get into the club with sneakers. Isn’t it nice when heads finally catch up?

Still think this site was a great idea.

Hardline after hardline,




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