Maybe I was born on a Harley. That would explain my mindless love for 80's rock and long hair. Perhaps that would also explain my fastination for motorbikes, not scooters, motorbikes. I mean scooters scoot. (Is there such a word?!) Motorbikes rumble, they call for a kind of wild untamed respect, wolves of the city. I rode a motorbike yesterday, and I was born again.
ROCK ON!!!
This is nomad. We don't really know about his past and he doesn't really like to talk about it. All we know is that he had a pretty rocky childhood. He isn't musicaly talented or gifted at dancing. Too bad, no Little Miss Sunshine contests for him I guess.
We like sleep
Meet Milky the wonder dog. She never speaks. I think she's maya angelo. I took her from a family with children grown too old to care about anything but tests. I cut her nails so now she runs alot. And then...crash time
party like a rock star
Ozzy Osborne once claimed he partied so hard he had no recollection of writing the song "Mr Crowley" A guitar genious...a staggering guru of intellectual prowess...Milky reads her dreams, then plays guitar. Soon damn it! Soon! The world will know her dreams
the drive to mexico on pch
the valley
blue cups
queen of the valley
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