Beutiful bikes! Hoping to get a new job soon and all my money will go to a bike.

I keep feeling my old crush in my dreams. I say that because I cannot physically see her. The only thing I will ever see is brunette hair. I don't go to school anymore so I do not know what she looks like anymore. But I can feel her presence. It's like I don't want to be anywhere else but that dream. I tried really hard to get her in lucid dreams along time ago but It never worked out, so now when I feel her in my dreams It's the best.

@KIRBYDUDE Nobody will ever let you know When you ask the reasons why They just tell you that you're on your own Fill your head all full of lies -Sabbath Bloody Sabbath

No problem my freind. Not to many places where people can talk about what they have on their mind these days.

Oh thats your name. Ok. I dig this funky jam.

CHIC

@LuciousTimesTracks not available in my country lol

Hey you all. Working on a new playlist.

You've nearly got the whole forums with your name on them!

Go back to my first comment and it says something like "This is the weirdest conversation i've ever heard".

We discuss everything and anything here man. We are very open people!

I don't have any guns atm because I am too young. When I am older I do want to get my license for open carry and carry a colt .45. I shot a gun before and it was awesome but I don't see myself spending a whole lot of money on guns in the future.

[Here is a link to the google doc with the work in progress story. I write slow. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ooXWP5VlvhquYvAAfAC_pmkVNICKRKokKyrav2TLnzo/edit?usp=sharing] Steve, T and Micky drive down Rigaro Blvd, a road known for gang violence, robberies and murders. The cars clock reads three a.m, and the block is relatively quiet at this hour. The trio drive slowly down the road, peering over at every soul who ponders the dim lighted alleyways. “Where's our guy” Micky says, while gripping his cigarette In his right hand “Around here somewhere” T says. Steve stays quiet in the back seat. The sedan pulls into a Dunkin Donuts. The cool shore breeze flows in and out of the open windows. The three slouch down in their thrones, waiting for their pray. Micky looks up to notice a man slowly walking into the parking lot. He taps T’s shoulder and points at the man. “That him?” Micky asks “That's him alright” “He's black?” Micky says “Yea, so” “What does it matter, his face is gonna be red in a couple of seconds” Steve growled “True” they both say. Steve grabs a chain from the floor of the car and swings the door open. He promptly walks over to the kid. “Hey!” Steve yells “I didn't know you were allowed on the north side!" He swings the chain and smacks the guy across the face with it. He falls down and Steve begins to stomp his face. The kid lets out a painful groan and Steve lets his boot off. “Your ever talk to D again, you'll be saying hello to old fuckin’ mee maw!” The lights of the car turn on, enveloping Steve and the kid behind him. Who now rolls around in pain, bellowing with every breath. Micky reaches over his seat and pushes the back door open for Steve. He slides in and slams the door. “A bit corny?” Steve says doubtfully “A bit… yea” Micky replies They all laugh as T peels out of the parking lot. They begin to drive down the street as they notice a suspicious looking prostitute on the corner of a side street. The car slows down and stops at a red light. The three look at a kid on the side of the street next to the light. He’s in all black with a backpack. Stander attire for a huster. “Unusual” T says Micky rolls the window down and hollers him over to the curb. The two sigh, micky follows up with a chuckle. He walks over and Micky grabs a 38. Snub from the cubby hole in the door and rests it under the window. Sense the three don’t have their colors on and seem relatively calm at the moment, it’s fairly common for people to stick up three guys. Even a little kid. The bloody chain hidden on the floor out of sight of course. Micky rolls his window down and he walks over to the curb. His ripped shoes drag on the concrete and his is face is revealed under his hoodie, he’s a white kid with a bloodshot left eye and a bruised right one. “What you want” The kid says. “What do you have” Inquired Micky “Crack” hissed the kid “Alright…” Micky pauses and looks at the guys “Let me get it all” The kid makes sure the coast is clear “I got an eight ball for ya” “Ok. Hand it over” He hands it over, clearly he’s new to this. Micky grabs it with his right hand and throws it over his shoulder, his left hand; sitting calm on his gun. The three laugh hysterically, but Micky makes sure to keep an eye on the young fellow. T leans over to get a looks at his face “What’s your name kid” "Why do you wanna know" The kid says “Kids got balls” Micky says to T “Sure does” Micky lets out a little sigh. “Where'd you get the shit from”

((I hope you all don't mind that I am practiacally stealing the idea of The Idnentity from @ItsRaiden , but I can't help but find myself late at night writing, so here Is my take in writing a book related to Identity with a criminal side. No hate Raiden, much love brother, read chapt. 1 and loved it. Keep it up)) Chapter 1 - Morning Micky is awoken by the sound of his phones alarm. He sluggishy sits up and puts on his round glasses, walks to his closet and struggles to put on a black pair of jeans. After successfully accomplishing such an easy task, Micky, still half asleep slips into a "Support your local m.o.m chapter MFFM" hoodie. After slipping socks on he ponders over to his window, which is covered by a Gadsden flag draped from the window sill. It's still dim outside and a low fog covers the streets of Mickys working class neighborhood. He turns around and walks to his bedside table. It's littered with dollar bills, full ashtrays and packs of cigarettes. With a push of a button on his Bluetooth speaker The Who begins to play. "Time to start the day" he murmurs to himself. He pulls the cheap wooded door and a surprise is imminent. His house is stil dirty! He pushes himself towards the kitchen, which is only a few steps past two other cheap wooden doors on both sides, bathroom and closet. Once he is exposed to the wonderful smell of a leftover Italian sub from Marcellus sub shop hidden in the almost empty fridge, he is instantly revived from the sleepy daze. Taking a Lucky Strike from a pack on his small kitchen table and resting one on his lip and uses the gas stove to light his "toasted". After waiting for what seems ages his coffee is brewed and he pours it into his Harley Davidson mug. A gift from an old friend. The smell of fresh coffee, oh so sweet and elegant. He walks out onto his back deck overlooking a thick forest. Homes and there yards are on either side. The bitter cold air flys past his slim yet beer bellied body. He pulls his hood over his shaven head and slicks his small 70's style stache. The Who can still be heard in the distant bedroom. To the left his neighbor Mr. Hardy is outside in his backyard, taking his wifes small yapper dog for a walk. Standing there looking as if he's just experienced sub zero temp he turns to notice Micky. "You need a real dog!" Micky says with a heavy smile "You know the wife, gotta have her little precious. You know I had no say in this" He says as he devil eyes the young dog "Oh the shit we do for women" They both snicker blowing cold air "I'm going back into the heat, I suggest you do the same!" Micky exclaims as he steps back into his house. Hardy shivers back into his house, distant arguing can be heard between him and his wife. Micky chugs the rest of his coffee and places his mug in the sink. He moves his way into his tiny bathroom. Taking off his glasses and eventually pulls off his hoodie. Realizing why he ever got dressed in the first place. He stares at himself in the mirror and slowly takes off his white t-shirt. Uncovering his chest tattoo. Across his upper body reads a simple saying "dead men tell no tales"

Hey Jasmine

Respect the working man! Positive vibes your way my dude

The Men of Mayhem are still active and looking forward to the release of the town square module. Message me or @Narcfor request in joining the club. Hope you all are having a great weekend! MFFM.

How are you guys doing? Long time no speak!

"The only thing they understand is the social part" This is exactly where you are wrong my freind. If social justice warriors understood any bit of social engineering and the negative effects it has if you act on a situation and try and defuse it with force. Doing your best to stop a situation that may seem deem worthy to stop and then tell a SJW about this situation and they act, it falls completely. Every SJW i've encountered (I think your in highschool) cannot take care of a situation by doing what seems right to their moral fit. It is always what is right by the book of society and they act using that book. An example may be, I was having a conversation with my freind and like me we are into old things, anything vintage. We love the music, society, the clothes etc. I walked up to him and me being a T1 diabetic and my first year in a school having it, like a gentleman he asked how I was doing. I replied with "I'm feeling gay". Jokingly we laughed. To us it means "Feeling well or good". To the SJW reading her book a table or two down it meant to be gay sexually, and me the punk cannot be saying such negative words in her halls. She instantly put her book down and began arguing with us over the use of the word gay. After explaining that the word gay meant jolly or happy back in the old days, she deemed it was worthy to get teachers involved who then punished us as they seem fit. It was a harsh verbal warning that was completely unnecessary. Society today is done by the book. Those who don't read it are cast into the abyss.

nein

I agree. His book is extremely fascinating though I can't get it out of my hands and I never read books I only write them. He speaks like a politician and his words mean something. "The theoretician of a movement must lay down its goal, the politician strive for its fulfillment. The thinking of the one, therefore, will be determined by eternal truth, the actions of the other more by the practical reality of the moment. The greatness of the one lies in the abstract soundness of his idea..." pg 210-211.

Today is my birthday. Just another day. Actually I kinda feel depressed. Also I'm reading mein kampf and i'm on page 245 and I think I am slowly turning into a nazi.

Prochaine semaine. Ils ont retardé la publication à nouveau.

I can relate heavy to this my freind. I also seen shit just like this go down in front of my eyes, when I used to go to school. It was shit like this what you went through that made me leave. That and one hundred other things.