"There goes the caravan of bearded ninjas screaming down the street in their jihadimobiles, yelling slogans about the liberation of Palestine."
Damn, I'm pissed off nobody told me to meet Nir Rosen when he came to town.
I'm in the middle of something truly bizarre here. Like that scene in Sean of the Dead where Sean's all "when I was a boy...he touched me." and then his mom is like "no he didn't" and that's that.
So more to be written when I have a firmer grasp.
ADDITION: and more, yet completely unrelated, from the land of great writing. Edited, though, to make it about ME ME ME ME ME.
I remember stripping off layers of sweatshirts that had begun to take on the unmistakable scent of rowing, throwing them into the corner of someone else's apartment, and talking about whatever the hell felt like the most fun to talk about, feeling like the only bitterness in the world was from the cheap beer.
I miss crew :-(