running from the law, the press, and the parents

is your name michael diamond?

nah, my name's clarence. 

call it content. call it a dump. either way, i have way too many photos on my computer's hardrive. so much so that photoshop struggles to open up so i might as well put it all to some use and commit the heinous act of #posting. I dont have any longform words to say other than this is going to be one of those round up posts. when im feeling sentimental in a totally non-cornball way - thats when you can get those long form sentimentality #posts. until then, skateboarding is what it is - wandering around with some weirdos.

joel - nocturnal pop shuv.

john john - mellow front blunts.

chillers.

its tough being epic in a world of fail - mikey

rashad - backside flip over the can. u street knights.

sinquan - when im hurling expletives at red lights, im always talkin to you...

...and everytime i light my cigarrette, i hope that your heart's burnin too.

tom with a fast one to strike out the side. this is fucked.

buy the ticket, take the ride, pay your dues.

wayne - backtail.

 

dylan - insanely fucked up 5050.

 

he said hold up real quick.

 

ok i think that's enough for now. don't ask me what im doing because chances are i'm on my bike with a skateboard and a camera bag strapped to my back. in a way, its a stagnant habit. habitual routines patterned sort of like baseball. 3 strikes, 3 outs, 3 tries - or you load the count and hit foul balls till you either land or roll an ankle and give up. 

on the first day of baseball season, I was sitting at pulaski wrapped in two sweatshirts. when the last day of baseball season comes, i'll be sitting at pulaski watching the sun dip below the trees lining fountain side. it breaks your heart, it's designed to break your heart.