Hey there, Edward Hopper.

Rogue yellowcard kicks and awry lip slips burst 50's era diner vibes with awkward breezes and nervously jingled keys. Lonely Nighthawk diner dinners eat at family get togethers and make for Elephant trodden living rooms. The Jones's fake smiles and the cul-de-sacs stay empty, but the cookie cutter blinds are wide open. All seeing eyes. Favorites at No.1 create guilty animosity, and copper chords pulled taught under fickle fingers are disenchanting and all wrong. Black hole open eyes know all half truths and lies, but smiling mouths say nothing. and unfit mothers (grandmothers?) are all in my mind? supressed memories? No, but unborn (or undone?) dreams stay buried somewhere. 3 pairs of carbon-copied marshmallow thighs. It All makes sense to me.

All our knowledge has its origins in our perceptions.

First posts are always the most difficult. There's a nervous anticipation in introductions that always makes me look like an asshole. And really, the internet is the worst forum for 'verbal' manifestation because it conveys little to no emotion. Nervous anticipation and sarcasm often makes the poster come off as a schmuck. I think this is why my generation is communicatively defective. ( lol? much) Stereotypical Jewish dysphemisms should be used more regularly in day to day conversation. 'The Prince' is killing me. Metaphorically of course, but really isn't ink and paper the best kind of blade? But I'm past all of that, now I just want to know why rising high school juniors (or anyone really) needs to know 15th century Italian politics. Sure it's semi-applicable to the modern era, but the critique is murder. Damn you Machiavelli, damn you.