I feel limited by Nexopia. What if I don't feel like telling you my dislikes? Does anyone really read this anyway? No, so let's just get on with it. There we were, barreling down some prairie highway twisted out of our minds as per usual. This was a strange journey, to say the least. Day's earlier my friend had gotten himself into a car accident somewhere in this barren wasteland. Flipped his car into a ditch while driving drunkenly along these dusty back roads in some sort of vague nationalistic celebration. Problem is, this friend had a tendency to carry large amounts of contraband, the kind you really wouldn't want to get caught with. So while he waited on the street for the police, his right hand man stashed the entire collection a few yards into the trees that crawled beside the road. Half a case of Kokanee. Over $1000 worth of pot. A large ziplock bag full of magical mushrooms. A film canister concealing multiple ecstasy pills. Oil. Hash. 2 pipes. 1 bong. 1 scale, and a whole shit load of little baggies. Yes, these were sinister times, and sinister times call for sinister measures. Our objective, seemingly a simple one, was to drive out to this remote location and recover the lost stash of all stashes. However, problems arose when we got word from a friendly local that the cop's were scouring the earth frighteningly close to our prize the previous night. We had no exact facts to go on, but the implication was too real to consider. Paranoia began to set in. I looked around this car I had found myself in, sizing up my fellow occupants. Beside me sat a girl I hadn't seen since the one night stand we had months before, a passive awkwardness was in full effect. Driving was a rock n roll sort of fellow who I'd known for about a year. Beside him sat the cause of this whole sticky situation, the pusher man himself. It was then that a strange thought struck. These people were a metaphor, each representing a different piece of myself. Sex. Drugs. Rock n Roll. How could a man be defined by such depraved things? Strange. So there I sat, alone in the crowd, stairing into the endless reaches of the cosmos. Where were we going? Why was I here? Is there a reason I find myself on this grand journey? Scary questions full of scary answers. And so thus my life continues, barreling down a dusty road with the only goal being a vague promise of sex drugs and rock n roll. Let's just hope I can stop myself from rolling into the ditch.

Love,
Cam

PS
I hate Punkers