there are times when i'm on the poker table virtual or real where a random 1 outer or something lame like that comes letting the other person suck out and they stack me etc. hits me like a sledgehammer to my skull, cracking my cranium, mushy brains seep out. when it happens at that instant i hate life and want to die. it's the only thought in my head. sheerly suicidal. then a lapse into a brief depression and finally a reevaluation of life. a trilogy. it's only temporary of course, i'm not going to kill myself. but it's a glimpse of the pain and horror that drives people to do it. and damn it's real.
then there's moments where i love life and want to live. it's easier to blog about the bad stuff for some reason.
i ordered this shirt from urban outfitters of a cartoony picture of tupac's all eyes on me album cover. and my camo dodger, i was super westside yesterday. it's a hard look to pull off, and at times i felt sheepish, but i pushed through it and thought wwtd and tried to channel his spirit. everyone in the poker room called me tupac. which felt natural to respond to and oddly made me feel giddy. and to the people i didn't know on the table, i was from l.a. being from hawaii, a fun game i like to play is i'm repping this team today. i have yankees to giants and everyone in between. still have yet to get the oriole though, that's my blood.
it might be because i had to wear uniforms in elementary, but my daily clothes are becoming more and more like borderline costumes. maybe it's also due to living in vegas, it's a masquerade ball here.
have to go to a wedding and i want to wear crossdressing gangster chic. suspenders and slacks instead of buttons and bows. one thing i'm not is a girly girl.
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