The shit’s chess; it ain’t checkers.

Baddest dude in a wheelchair since Ron Kovic and Snoop the non-crack-slanger in Training Day (he’s on Disability, man).

This might get me an annoyed email or two from religious boys who like rap music and skinny girls in bathing suits, but if that is you our love affair was not meant to be. Stay away from me; I’m trouble. “We should seek the greatest value of our action,” Hawking told the paper. In my case, that means blogging sporadically and cuddling with my records constantly.

Spinning out, gracefully
Going nowhere, quickly
I’m older, day by day
Still going back to my childhood way

Round and round patiently
Getting lost by the guide
And I’m all worked up over nothing

All in and out
Connect my body
Deep into the ground

Connect the earth to the moon
And link our heavenly bodies
And not a moment too soon

Well you can fling open the windows
Or you can board them up
Satan’s jeweled crown
Or Christ’s humble cup

You think you’ll find yourself out there
Out in the lion’s den
In somebody’s battle
Over belief systems

Or disappear into the vacuum
Total neutrality
The way you can’t lose nothing
But nothing can be gained

Well anyway you cut it
We’re just spinning around
Out on the circuits
Over the hollow grounds
Out on the circuits
Over the hollow grounds
Heading right back in the same place
That we started out
Right back in the same place
Right back in the same place
That we starting out

Let her know



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