This Monday marked ten years since Elliott Smith stabbed himself in the chest twice.
Here I am, sitting on the floor of my empty room, feeling so anxious, seconds away from barfing.
If you’ve got something growing inside of you, it could really bloom.
We are overly critical of our bodies. We need to be proactive in changing this, not only for ourselves but for everyone around us.
These strike me as the only two options. There is always the third, remote possibility that Tom Hanks does not know who I am and thus is indifferent to me and that God is a human construct whom is therefore also incapable of holding strong feelings about my existence… but this seems farfetched.
It goes without saying that our capitalist-money hungry-debt factory of an education system is enraging to me and anyone else who wasn’t born in a mansion or birthed from a golden vagina.
If you haven’t noticed by now, we’re under hiatus while the first print issue of RASCAL is (finally!) in the final stages of printing.