sent a letter to the pro BMX-sponsored bro right beneath me: (or rather, according to the pic, above me)
ah, young one, why must you proliferate in breezy shows of articulate proliferance? why not just shine as the motherfuckin' free spirit you be? hehe
yeah hah, just got my groove on to a proliferance of kurt cobain, madonna and busta rymes at my nearest pub.
yahoo.
and now i'm alone. all alone. wishin you were here.
abbi's moving to LA, did i mention? poor sweet, hot dear, is in a world of trouble when it comes to the BF. sad but true. she's gonna grow up alot here.
ben's favorite line is, 'ya' gotta' lotta' guts, pat.' everytime i talk to him and sound slightly insane, that's what he throws at me. it's HILARIOUS.
anywho, drunk off my arse, hope to talk to you soon.
(trust, he was frontin, check this: "whats up, one of exalted nature? its mighty ruler. how do the priceless hours of life's wind blow? ... has the antecedent duration of individual existence proven erstwhile and quondam or newfangled and unprecedented? keep an independent self sufficient outlook a habit and you will ensure preeminent personal remuneration. am i trying your mind a little yet? hard to do to an individual of your intellectual stature. reply with a mind blowing showdown of a response, or im gonna tell everyone i can beat you in a 100 yard dash")