I rode my bike to my Grandparent's, 123 miles, when I was 14, over roads like this. |
Harold said that I could sit by the entrance, with my tip jar out, and that he woudl pay me, additionally.
My strings are two weeks old; two of them have broken already, and I have repaired them but, this is life. I have spent enough on cigarettes and alcohol to have bought brand new strings. I am screwing my audience, out of selfishness and recklessness.
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Comments, to me are like deflated helium balloons with notes tied to them, found on my back porch in the morning...