Spent some time in the Free World thinking, wow, my life has totally gotten awesome since I dropped out/ got kicked out of the Art Institute. Figures, an institution isn't generally the best place to be, and Institutionalized is not a state of mind I generally appreciate being in.

Three years - I spent three years in the goddamned hole, with some of the most sorry-ass, scum-of-the-earth conniving assholes, who somehow felt obligated to deride me for my goals and wishes, and the immaturity and idiocy drove me to a year of pretty bored drunken abandon. Well, I had it coming anyways.

So some of you are well aware that I haven't been around the grounds for some time. Actually, the night I left the apartment, I felt a refreshing wind of peace as I realized I'd left behind a part of my life that will probably be remembered as mostly bitter, with some pretty sweet backwash.

I made some pretty awesome friends there, like Michelle and Alphonzo (despite the raucous relationship ) and the girls that found me to be pretty decent. Joe was a pretty cool guy, and Izzy strikes me as the kind of person that gets the girl in the end. Many people sweetened the sour taste left in my mouth, and then, there were my much obliged enemies.

Many of these guys were people I either looked up to, or wanted to be in the friendship of. It soon became more apparent that there existed no grounds on which we could get along - the art wasn't gory enough, there wasn't enough stupid shit, or it was all on paper, and so the list goes on. There was even one dumbass who went as far as thinking that the friendship I forged with my now-roommate was a love fest relationship deal in which I was supposed to die/get my ass kicked/ insert male act of violence.

Suffice to say, I hope you special folks find your place in the world of motion pictures and catchy product-placement jingles perpetuating the consumer driven death doo-doo culture. It finds you pretty well to be in such a retarded field. After all, isn't Hollywood just a breeding ground for assholes?

Me? I'm already famous, and I've got it made. I might've fucked myself out of a nice car and maybe a sparkly-looking house with cookie-cutter furniture, but I left with one hell of an awesome best friend and left with all the know-how without the strings attached.

I win.

(psst: if you wanna catch my new stuff, furfans, it's at [link] )