dissident52

The next song flies out of the speakers with great might. This subsequently catches my ear. It was one of the best songs I've heard in a while. I start looking at the guitarist to what he's playing. It sounded familiar. All of a sudden a certain chord hit me and I knew what he was playing. It was a freaking Clutch song. I thought it was cool but at the same time I thought it was a bit cheap. As if they needed a filler song so they decided to play a song from a band they were playing for. A myriad of cheers ensue. I can respect that they want cheers from a very pro-Clutch crowd, but I thought that this was the wrong way to do it. As the stat

So we all head out, and as he promised, Jeff lights up as soon as we get outside. Luckily, we take Chris's car so we don't have to smell of cigarettes. But we'll be around it as soon as we get into the club. Chris's car was a 2001 Toyota Celica GT, the backseats are tiny, almost chlosterphobic. But since I rode shotgun when Chris picked me up, I'm riding in the back. Jeff sits up front as per usual. I'm rather glad, and Tim seems to be too, we aren't around his horrid cigarette scent. "When does the actual show start?" I ask. "Well, It's scheduled for 7 but I'd say around 7:20." Chris answers. "Awesome." So we arrive at the audito

"No man, I never did that. Nick only said I did it because he hates me." "Well I heard you did it but if you say you didn't, I'll believe you." "Alright thanks man. Principal Jones stopped me and tried to get me to confess to it, but he still thinks I did it. I don't know why. I swear that he is out to get me. Ever since I skipped out on one class, he's always been out to…." The doorbell rings, stopping any conversation. "That must be Jeff. He better have enough money to go." They open the door for Jeff. He stands out on the porch with his normal raggedy clothes on, smelling of alcohol and tobacco. He takes another puff of his cigar

A day of exhaustion has subsequently become a normalcy is the frantic hustle and bustle of the school year. Kids don't know where to go or what to do. The people that taught me much during my freshman and sophomore year have become history in the annals of high school. I am left with the immature, the lost, and the not so wise. All three can make up all the classes. Although the youngest of the young can mostly solidify why I feel this way. They need not to stand around the halls searching for the doors aimlessly. Teachers are there to be asked questions and teach you which doors to open and go through. Of course literally and figuratively sp