Got myself four milk crates stacked upside down with the robot laptop spread out across the topside, set to go dark right away on ninja mode, stalking around the back yard under a waxing ass gibbous haynes moon, an acre off the road, looking like a badly tattooed ghost torso floating to the random drunk driver who occasionally meanders past, post midnight on a Friday night which is technically a Saturday morning but technical motherfuckers get no respect along roads with no lines painted on them. Thought about a ride to the train yard I found last weekend, to kick it by the riverside, rolling water cleansing my dirty soul, too grimed up from staying in the lines, doing the responsible things, walking the world of the cleanfaces. There's a freight car that was there last weekend that said ANOTHA DAY ANOTHA DOLLA and I was like, "no doubt freight train, no fucking doubt." But that's also a wack exchange rate because dollars are fake value and days are for-real, and pretty limited. When you run out, you can't increase your debt limit or print up more or ask for some overtime. So check that graffiti, and remix it to ANOTHA DAY FUCK A DOLLA.
My dad used to have a motorcycle helmet just like Captain America, and it hung in the shed long after he no longer had a motorcycle, and that thing was cool as fuck. Bunches of dudes' houses we went to had motorcycle posters like Easy Rider, including this one dude named Winkie who had that famous two bikers riding across that bridge poster stretched out across his living room wall. Weren't no domineering TV influences back then. He also had some Easyriders centerfolds up, and I remember his wife/ol' lady or whoever catching me with wandering eyes and she was like, "Yeah, you shouldn't look over there at that one." When I got a big batch of old Easyriders last year, there was plenty of David Mann artwork, but no literal photographical posters.
That being said, the giant flathead cybertron brainwashing TV machine in our current farmhouse living room, it's nice and big and all that whatever that makes us feel occupied when we don't want to think and just want to suck on entertainment's various titties for a few hours, but I'd trade that motherfucker in a heartbeat for a giant ass David Mann painting to take up that wall. In a heartbeat.
STEAL "I Wasn't Born To Follow"
NEXT: A song that wouldn't exist nowadays because Mike Muir would've been put on psychotropic drugs!
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