"You da' champ.
This the shit! This the shit!
Get'm, TIMBO."
"I'm not the champ.
I'm not the champ but I'll fight the champ." So another blog, another waste of time, another late night.
Another wasted breath.
And so on.
I'll jump right in. Things with Kalie are getting nowhere. I'm still stuck doing the same shit over and over, and nothing's being resolved.
Nothing's goddamn changing.
I need to do something about it. I know I do, I've known for the past eleven months, but I don't even know where to start. Where to even begin understanding what to do. She keeps toying with me, I keep toying with her, we're getting absolutely nowhere fucking fast. I need to put an end to it, I know I have to.
I work for a photographer. Her name is Frances Litman, and she's alright at what she does. I don't mean to insult this veteran photographer, who's done herself this well single-handedly, but I haven't honestly seen anything that's blown my mind.
Then again, who am I to talk, I haven't done shit-all in months!
Fuck Kalie.
Fuck Frances.
Fuck school.
Fuck my feet.
Fuck you.
No, not fuck you, I love you, you're reading this, that's fucking amazing.
And so-fucking-on.
Stay tuned.