Meandering through this existentially wonderfully different country without a camerra is just not proper. A country which is trying its hardest to be something different but at the exact time lives to be the same. Its hard to explain its like having a fishing rod to hunt for bears. This blog is suffering as a result but my eyes are having a ball all the same.

Quote from the man to keep things fresh.

  “Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish—a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found a way to live out where the real winds blow—to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested . . . Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll.” 
 Hunter S. Thompson, Generation of Swine: Tales of Shame and Degradation in the '80's

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