thelonghalltotheendofnowhere

so apparently google wants me to kill my-fucking-self. this shit-piece-of-internet-waste was (IS) the fucking product of my entire night..... and next day. NEVER ever EVER do things the way i do them, because  it will not work. i just wanted to make a nice little clump of photos from last year, and apparently, google sucks old dry yellow crusty penis. i had more photos but somehow, between the tissue in my cap (that of which has no desire to co-function with the silicon chips and invisible ties of an outer web network) and the little layers of energy waste that makes up my finger tips, practically nothing was accomplished in the shinny, manicured way in which i had dreamed.


so, if clumps of photos provide you with no real direction, then blame it on the site designer... who apparently sucks at her/his job. they should probably be fired.
that was mean of me, i meant to say, "why does this fucking idiot have a job? execute it!"
(it means he/she/shewee/heeweee/weallloveyouforwhoyouareinthatsoulofyours),




BIG PICTURE: find robo dustin. find my love of loves. ROBOTUSTIN! TUSTIN, I LOVE YOU!!!




"To my sweet, sweet lovers of large-footed-hairy-forest-dwelling-creatures...

i should be doing some kind of reading, writing, sleeping, and/or dreaming, but alas, i am not doing any of these things. well, actually i am writing, but not the things that i should be writing. instead, i am sooo stuck in a rut. one that involves me and the fact that I'm not going to the gorge to lose my mind to the drug that is fun-time. "