places magnified – Prince George
16 year old skater boys shooting up in the middle of the day and a dealer next door at the motel gets shot three times – high noon in PG . . .
quite a lot of money has to go through that royal piece of shit in Northern British Columbia. the forest industry is big and the consumption of its works even bigger. hungry and thirsty hordes of planters, loggers and others flood the city all year round – it’s busy here.
we hit PG every four to five days on our days off last summer and we loved it. I don’t care if somebody gets fucked up beside me, because everybody is fucked up anyways. alcohol is king and queen, beating your wife accepted, as well as living a life in middle class neighborhoods with no passion and no fun, but drinks to numb your desperation.
I don’t care if somebody get’s fucked up on whatever. I do care about the 16 year old, who should reconsider his actions, but I don’t care about your oppinion, because I am in Prince George, I’m fucked up and I’m wearing a red lingerie dress. I am drunk and broke, but I’m sexy, a little bit like Berlin, walking the streets of the outskirts of hell.
all the sadness and tragedy going on here is at least real and authentic. I’ve talked to and made friends with a lot of locals you’d move over to the other side of the road for, because you’re scared.
why don’t we all suffer a little bit for half a day to give relief to those, who actually suffer? do you suffer? have you suffered?
I judged you, but I don’t know you, so I don’t care.
but I care enough about you to want you to read this crap. I want your attention and I want to move your focus on the dirt in your backyard. it’s there and it’s not going anywhere just by not looking at it. we love to oversee the suffer of our neighbors.
let’s be friendlier with all the fallen and them, who hit rock bottom hard – you could be the next in line!
let’s accept addictions, they’re part of our lives, criminalizing a drug doesn’t make it worse, than the addictions we already have as there are:
but we love them and we need them, we need them so much we’d rather keep the weak suppressed.
until they shoot, stab and mess with us.
I wake, somebody is hammering on the door of room 285. I open and a fully armored cop blocks the door ‘everybody out of the room!’
we’re sharing the place with two friends, we get out and find the whole parking lot packed with tank like police cars, countless men and dogs. what happened? what did you guys do two hours ago? we drank. what happened? no answer. I look at the shivering girl wrapped up in a blanket. they didn’t kill her and the guy survived with three bullets put into his body.
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