The week I fell.

This week I fell. Down, down down.

There are so many things I could put in this post, but i fear that the internet lords of Google.com will control my thoughts forever if I put them here.

I've learned about anarchism. No, not the "fuck the system" schwilly kids that litter the streets of every major city in the world. Claiming that the only way to change the system is to buy the two most taxed items on the face of the earth. Tobacco and Alcohol. I mean real Anarchism. The kind that's going to eventually get me and a whole lot of other people into some trouble when the government starts causing more trouble than they're worth.

The trouble is, they're way past the tipping point, in my opinion. And nowhere is this more obvious than in the dominated states of no-opinion. Civil liberty is not something that the average american is familiar with. Mostly because, they for some reason have no desire for it. Much like the average Canadian, they're plugged in (to the internet, music, their phone, ect) most of the time, and are extremely effective at ignoring the world around them. This is a good thing for the average north american, becuase they're lives are often extremely dull, leading to the classic "cow eye syndrome" found in the extremely bored and extremely medicated. Also cows. It's that glassy disconnect, perhaps hinting at their prayers that since they've been so good in this life, that the afterlife is sure to be heaven.

BUT WAIT!?!?!?

What's this? A happy person? Oh NO! DOES NOT COMPUTE!? Head down. He's just another one of those homeless people anyways.

I like to go to centers of higher education and look for smart people and religious institutes looking for enlightened individuals. I rarely find either at either building. I said one EYE-thur and one EE-thur. It makes that sentence a little less ugly.

Oh, I'm in Arizona. The state where you go to jail for having any weed. ANY! I've been baked for two days straight though. NARF NARF!!! Fucking cops. ALWAYS FUCKING WITH ME! In california anyways, they were always fucking with me, here I've only gotten in trouble once. They said that my breakdancing on the street was causing a distrubance. It took four cops to get me out and I threw a couple disses their way before I peaced out.

On the subject of getting in trouble for dancing, last night I got into a couple clubs for free. In the first club, I was the first person on the dance floor, but the music sucked so I was kinda just playing around, you know. "Normal" dancing. I would hear a song I like and bust out for a little bit, but nothing too crazy. I really wanted to kill it. No challengers or real spectators. Actually I did have a couple speccies, but still decided not to bust it out. Soon there's people dancing everywehere. Girls humping, the whole lot.

Tap. Tap. My left shoulder gets touched.

"yes?" I politely ask the roided up bouncer who's touched me. There are two of them. I can smell the hair gel and insecurity ironically displayed in the security gaurd.

You have to leave

Why?

You have to leave

WHY?!

We have the right to refuse service to anyone

YOU GUYS ARE PUSSIES! --I can be such an imbocile when I'm angry, feel slighted. Disrespected.

As I'm walking out however. I slow down. On beat. As always. but on every fourth (or whatever), I turn and front right in these guys faces. You should have seen them, my two faithful readers. Two grown men, flinching every time I pop. Pop / flinch. Pop / flinch. They wanted to hit me so bad.

I'm on the street. Figure I'll give the club thing one more try.

I go to this place that's also adertising no cover that night. Last night. Thursnight. I walk up to the bouncer at the front door. Super nice looking huge black guy. It's never the big dogs that wanna fight, but those little motherfuckers never shut up. Good thing we don't give steroids to little dogs. Then we'd have muscular people with little dog syndrome. Jesus.

Are you going to kick me out for breakdancing?

He laughs. No.

So, I can go in there and breakdance and you're not going to kick me out?

Laughter again, yeah man.

Fuck yeah.

He checks my backpack and I go inside. Beats a little slow for all out breaking but after I set my things down and remove a couple layers (mistake) I start putting on a popping session for all the little school children who have come to the bar looking for some random hook ups as they do every thursnight at this time. Oh, there's also a girl on a pole. They watched me.

Tap. Tap.

Come outside with me. Says another huge black bouncer. They must breed well. I follow him outside. Just as I open the door I look past the bouncer at like four more of them. Situation assesed, I respectfully listen to what the man has to say.

We have a dress code. Hygien. You have to leave.

Oh shit! My bad, yeah that's fair enough. I turn back inside.

Why are you going back inside?

All my shit's in there.

Okay.

As I take two steps inside, I pretend to trip, catch myself on the ground with my right foot, roll forwards onto a stab and roll again onto a half a knee spin then gracefully stand back up and continue my walk as though nothing happened.

I collect my things and walk-pop out of the club.

Total time in clubs, 1 hour.

Possible competition from bitches? None.