your hair is screaming "freedom."

sunset.
baseball.painting.
painting. ghetto blaster.

the children. the community. giving back.
fireworks. independence. macey's. parking lot.
raw-b. ponyboy. sodapop. darry. dally. two-bit. steve. johnny.

i cleaned floors today. i walked around like i was tough. like i was a tough kid. when you do floors you get to wear a brown shirt, instead of the usual white one. the folks that clean the machines and what not, always wear brown. they're pretty tough. they walk around looking angry. many of them are polynesian. they could hurt me bad if they felt like it. i trained this girl today on how to clean the floors. she started complaining a little bit. i don't believe in that. it's not that i don't believe in complaining, it's that i don't believe in complaining to someone that you just met. i complain to my closest of peoples, but not to some random joe i'm cleaning floors with. that's not my bag. that's not in my bag of things i do. oh, there goes Mata, she's on her way to the smoking hut for the second time today. we must be on break at the same times today, Mata. i'm on break with a lady seated near me. she has blue and red streaks, while the majority of her hair is bleached. she oozes with patriotism. maybe that's what happened. she likes America so much that one day she woke up and her hair was like that. she was becoming America. she is America. if that were the case, becoming what you like, my nose and ears would be oozing double stuff oreo cream. that's something i like. my hair would become like AC slater, some sort of jerry curl mullet, because i like saved by the bell. that's some tough hair. tuff hair. who could have guessed i'm eating stouffer's lasagna on my lunch break at the stouffer's factory? not complaining. it's delicious. i bent down to pick up some noodles to put in the INEDIBLE bin. the machine that pumps out the trays was also pumping out one of the dopest beats i've heard in awhile. whenever i saw a noodle on the floor next to the trays, i considered it a treat to bend down and pick it up. it was a treat to crouch down for longer than necessary to enjoy the sweet, sweet sound of machinery beats. cheap thrills these days. yo, LINE 5, keep churning out those hits. read raw-b's post.