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Peas out.

Two Thieves (A True Story)
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I think you're an engineer--an electrical engineer, or computer science, something like that.
I think you went to Berkeley, and I think I wanted to show you goodwill--a Berkeley man and a Stanford man. I think I wanted to show you I thought the rivalry was foolish, and I think you would have agreed.
I think you're older than me--I'm nearly sure, actually. I think you're not thirty yet, but damn close.
I said to you: “Au Voleur, Au Voleur!” I struck your shoulder with the back of my open hand to get your attention, and I said it again: “Au Voleur!”
“You're fucked up?,” you replied.
I wasn't; I was cleanblooded as hell, and I think you were also. In your defense, it was loud, loud as hell.
I think you didn't hear me warn you, but I think--I think you'll find out, if you don't know. And I think you don't know, not in January, not today.
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Peas out.


1. the weekend
2. pictureplane
3. deestroyer
4. girls
5. salem
6. washed out
7. kanye
8. drake
9. lil wayne (sorry for the wait tape)
10. araabmuzik
11. action bronson
12. danny brown
13. hood internet - trillwave 2
14. lil b
- erik stinson december 8, 2011

“Alameda” (A Short Pogh-Hymn)
Champagne. No corkscrew: so, champagne.
“The most important thing about opening champagne is to do it slow and not shake it.”
“And the second most important thing is to open it upside-down and spray it all over Dale Earnhardt. Or whoever wins NASCAR.”
“That's so trashy.”
“I know.”
Alameda.
“I see it! Volvo Volkswagen!”
Instead of correcting you like the asshole I am (“It's a Volvo Station Wagon; a Volkswagen is a make of car. From the German: Volk—meaning people—and Wagen—car”), I contented myself by thinking about how a Volvo Volkswagen would come to be.
Someone's driving a Volvo on 880 North at 80 miles an hour.
Someone's driving a Volkswagen on 880 South at 80 miles an hour.
One of them swerves through a break in the median. Head-on collision at 160 miles per hour: Volvo Volkswagen. It's mine. One-of-a-kind. No one else in the world owns a Volvo Volkswagen.
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I've got to move to San Francisco, or to the East Bay. This is the first time I've felt any attachment at all to a physical place, the first time I've had any sense of home, the first time I've cared enough about where I live and the people I know that I wouldn't immediately pack up and move anywhere in the world for ten cents more an hour.
Peas out.
V4L.
