Infact, I Grew Up In A Shit Neighborhood, And Something Like 75% Of The People I Knew In Childhood Grew

😂😂😂😂

Here’s a song I posted awhile ago, these are random people doing it, but this is probably CLOSER to the original 1800s version of the song.  Little Pretty Anna...

https://fredarctor.newgrounds.com/follow

I was once on newgrounds more than a decade ago and decided after just playing some games sleeplessly there I’d make an account, feel free to stalk me on different medias.

Here is another song I played on the kids guitar ( its actually a really nice playing spanish guitar its just...small ) which I play admittedly different on purpose, I never liked the original rhythm it doesn’t feel right.  Though his is much better, this is Bob Dylans “ You Belong to Me “

having written two books prior, both i threw in the trash ( one was well over 200 pages ) i started one the other day that im fairly sure of, and by sure of i mean im sure it needs to be written, not sure that people will read it, but people believe in jesus and 12 step programs, what the fuck do people know?!

It's dreamy weather we're on, you waved your crooked wand Along an icy pond, with a frozen moon, a murder of silhouette,crows I saw And the tears on my face, and the skates on the pond They spell Alice

I disappear in your name, but you must wait for me Somewhere across the sea, there's a wreck of a ship Your hair is like meadow grass, on the tide, and the raindrops on my window And the ice in my drink, baby all I can think of is Alice

The Buddha teaches us that life is suffering, to live is to suffer, because to live is to need, and to need is to suffer, and to be enlightened is to be free of need, of suffering, the Buddha teaches that the point of life is to live long enough to realize the point of living is to get ready to be dead longer, let go of need and consciousness, and accept it.

After 30 years, I totally understand this notion, it's already more than enough, not that most humans drive me the fuck up the wall or anything,  Kisses, love you...

Aldous Huxley’s death note.