Well, the good old days may not return

'I'm gonna stand my ground
I won't be turned around
I'm gonna keep this world
dragging me down
Hey  babeeee
there ain't no easy way out'

I know my precept for Xl102 (v. Q 84, it's like Mariah Carrey v. the chick who plays bass for White zombie, if chu know what I mean)'s outstanding coverage of certain bands: the Wall, at least once a day; Skynard, at least 1x: either freebird, oooh that smell or their other one; THE WHO, with whom in 83, the highlight of insider trading and felony records of crimes and the things at some point, something changes, like Hotch recites, a trigger (but I think the trigger is more ongoing like a slide guitar, a continuous moment compressed into time, so therefore you think it is import}

I'd like to figure out how the 'youth' in Korea is diff from the 'youth' around the 4-5 corners of the gravity-inflicted mass of rock and dirty and particles we lovingly call earth (as if it cares for us--- I think it does, but have no proof, it's all native american smoke and mirrors, ghost dance of the Navajos from the 30s, now what we got? A bunch of memories we were too fucked up to actually calculate.

We only use 3% of our monkey brain (apparently) -- I feel like I use betweem 7-8 % on average, potential for up to 15% had I gone to St. John's and met a writer-painter-intellectual-Olympic rower and we made some kind of home along the Potomac, him as a consultant to the State Dept, me an invisible ghost analyst for the FBI profilers who asses international psychopaths, and talk them off the ledge or just once, get to be as perfectly succinct as Hotch: "you move, you die."

Take a bow for the new revolution...