(no subject)

Dear livejornal. Amongst the lowlife a there's two types. Us lifers and the tourists. Now when you take out the tourists under your wing they'll be confused but the others know. The tourists think they'll drunkenly shake off the suburbs and might try and forget that you are pretty good at fighting. They'll be shocked by coarse language and surprised when you offer to defeat them in response to an I intended sleight. The others of the tribe know and can tell by looking that theroximituof tourists has turned your fists to hammers and your dick to rebar. They will k ow you by your masterful force and be unable to look you in they eye even after makeouts. Frustrated and hostile you might size up the effeminate little man at the bar thinking: alright. Fuck it. She'll do. And then, powerful, you'll be salvaged by the remembrance that you've an appointment with the dentist in the morning and beg off with just one scuffed fist, a scowl and a long walk home under the moon.