some be-atch chased us out of the park yesterday. the only downer about the sweet weather is it brings out the petty tyrants and playground bullies.

everyone's trying, to get to the ball, the name of the ball, the ball is called heaven.

it's hard to imagine, that nothing at all, could be so exciting, could be this much fun.

it's hard to think fast. how do the rappers do it?

love, the smokeless flame

moving stations

my camera began to die today

she waved at copp, i said copp somebody waved, he came over and she cried a little, i said it's ok and we left and she waved bye.

fendow

you don't sell it, and that's what makes it free.

you got me smilin', again.    sly stone.

peace out, fen, i'll catch ya monday.

til then you can work on your rhyming.