Of the local friends.
I finally find a guy to buy a sac from.
I give him good conversation.
He shares a bowl with me.
He reminds me of two people put together.
And he is mediocre, but nothing negative to me.
Two playing electronic music.
I was high, and found it hilarious.
Claimed it sounded like two battling video games.
A hardcore man.
Playing pumped up Blink 182, basically.
No one danced.
No one stood.
And I felt really bad for him.
Because I really respected his bravery.
However, he was playing to a shitty drum track and recorded backing vocals.
A guy on guitar with eyes that lock.
Similar to The Killers.
A bitch with a voice and a personality similar to cocaine.
A seventiest vibe.
A bad guitar solo.
And one that's okay, but taken too far.
A broken string.
The guy I smoked with keeps watching me where I go.
She walks up to me.
Alcohol in the van.
I run after him to join.
A boy is talking about fucking a girl he doesn't like.
I tell him to stop waisting his time if he doesn't like her.
The only way to consume is quickly.
Breathe out of your mouth.
All for the influence.
A boy who finds me interesting.
Blonde, greasy, straightened hair.
All black clothing.
First thing I heard when I met him outside was a cocaine brag.
Which made me grind my teeth and hate him.
We talk about California.
He says that Classick Rock is over, and it's 2011.
I tell him there's a little bit out there, and that 2011 has nothing to do with it.
He mentions that he heard there was a good hardcore scene in California.
That's what he's into.
I tell him I don't know anything about it.
Weed pulls me out of the van.
And I talk to the singing girl with a beautiful rock necklace.
Red silk shirt.
Black bell bottom jeans past her belly button.
With flowers crawling up the right leg.
The pipe forms it's own circle without me.
Some boy finds my Buck Fush shirt interesting.
The guy I smoked with before invites us to smoke in his car.
I find myself drunk and holding the pipe for too long.
Lost in conversation, and they're making fun of me.
The cliche' form of flirtation.
They kept telling me I was drunk.
Which is obvious since I stated it myself.
And since I was drinking.
That is what happens.
But they had nothing to say.
And wanted to still poke at me.
The night became a blur of cans, bag, weed, music, and a van multiple times.
I sit in the van listening to them play.
Covers of Modest Mouse.
A pixies song that always brings me to my group of friends.
I stumble along to find myself at a Pink Floyd cover.
And it's euphoric.
And well done.
A band that I was introduced to during my stay is sung amongst everyone in the room.
"I don't care if my eyes roll back in my head."
The boy who decided to wear a girl's short shorts is being spun around in a random wheelchair.
Somehow find myself in the van again.
A fat girl in a goth dress with red lipstick wants my acceptance.
I give it to her because I'm drunk, and I feel like talking a lot.
I find myself stuck in the bathroom with her.
I introduce her to high quality lipstick.
She bends the stick off the end.
An puts it on sloppily.
My friend knocks on the door searching for me for the millionth time.
I miss meeting people in these situations.
I miss these situations.
We drive home, and Mr. Hardcore needs a ride.
We, therefore, piled in the back.
The boy in the front seat steps his muddy shoes on my jacket and white sweatshirt.
The Hardcore listener is in the middle.
I am by the door.
He tries to hold the handle on the door.
The excuse to have his arm around my back.
I sit forward and hate this moment all the way through.
However harmless it is, I don't want him touching me.
After dropping everyone off.
My friend and I arrive at her place.
Finish watching the intervention with the PCP addict.
Eat balls of Chex Mix.
Realize I'm eating for no reason.
The most beautiful man in my life calls me.
We talk about our nights.
Grab and chug soymilk.
Bring the soymilk with me and repeat several times.
Wake up, and go to the gym.