Where I Stay: Spring

So, I started this shit earlier and then realized that I had no pictures of spring on my camera. I remedied that shit, post haste. Check it out.








You probably can't see it but all these trees have buds on them. It's fucking beautiful.



This is the Springtime view from the top of the steps. Yeah, everything still looks brown from up here but you know that all the grasses are putting out new shoots.



Pioneer Peak. I like this mountain. It makes me feel insignificant, but in a good way.

In the spring a young man's fancy turns to love. At least, that's what I've heard, and judging by experience I'll say that's true, if by "fancy" you mean porn and "love" you mean addiction. I'll never forget the time I was caught with porno in my parents' house by my old man. The words he said are still with me today, "It ends up you just need more, and more, and more." By that, I took it to mean that you would need more and more freaky shit to blow your load, and with that in mind I have always tried to curb my porn viewing. That's not to say I haven't dallied on the edge of bukkake, fat chicks, throat pokers, etc. but now I know that straight up, guy/girl, consensual (to include highly unlikely fantasies, i.e. boss with employee and teacher/student) pornography is the way to go. To be honest, I can't get into all that other shit. Case in point, the gangbang. I once had a discussion with a friend about this genre and we came to the conclusion that, "Can you imagine how it smelled in there?" Enough said.

Word up. Pornography isn't the problem, uninvolved parenting is. Word is bond.