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No matter how many times I went up onstage I always got that horrific sinking feeling in my stomach. Every time I spoke I felt like I had to choke back vomit, let alone when I tried to sing. Thankfully, I never did, and by the time we had gotten through our first song and the crowd started to get into our act, I was happy as a lark, no vomit whatsoever.

Posted By Beardan On 08.22.2011 @ 5:04 pm

“Man fuck deer” James was on another rant. I didn’t care, I just hung out at his house for the free pot. He was always spouting some bullshit about some random thing. I just tried to block him out and nod appropriately.

Posted By Beardan On 08.18.2011 @ 5:33 pm

Everything he did, he tried to succeed at it. “What’s the point of doing anything if you aren’t going to do it well?” he would always say. I hated him for it. Everything was a competition, nothing was fun. That’s why I killed him.

Posted By Beardan On 08.17.2011 @ 5:57 pm

We found Tom the next morning, still staring at his canvas. His eyes were dark, he obviously hadn’t slept. “Tom!” I yelled, shaking him out of his stupor, “it doesn’t have to be perfect. Just paint.”

Posted By Beardan On 08.07.2011 @ 9:14 pm

He clutched the ticket in his hand with a death grip. Nothing and noone would take this ticket from him. It was his only chance to get out of this shithole, this excuse for a town that drained his will to live like Nosferatu draining blood. He was going to get out of here, and he was going to make something of himself, despite what everyone said.

Posted By Beardan On 07.22.2011 @ 8:15 pm