Even if he's not, something weird is almost guaranteed to happen. At consecutive Flatstocks:
A crack whore in Seattle has Robert up against the wall threatening his life, right after she was allegedly ass-raped by ants.
That same Flatstock at a karaoke bar, Mark, Robert and I successfully steal a guy's giirlfriend away from him, causing him to sing her a drunken dedication while he actually cried.
At the Flatstock BBQ, Robert inexplicably jumps up on the picnic table holding salt shakers at his nipples & shouting "I'm Farrah Fawcett! I'm Farrah Fawcett!"
Back in Austin, Mark gets reprimanded by hotel staff at 2am for putting on a doggy-style humping exhibition on the bed that was on display in the lobby of the Hilton.
In my new Flatstock Converse shoes, and with the Methanes & Vastaghs in the car scared shitless, I jump on and stomp in the hood of a car full of drunk young shits that were acting like dicks.
Donald Duck Dunn starts shit with all of us and nearly gets his old ass kicked, while Adam Sandler, Don Cheadle and some friends yuk it up and yelll "kick his ass!"
There is more. I'm both afraid and excited to see what will happen next.
Thanks all.
It's the Horoshima explosion in the backgound.
The compostion by Greenwood is influenced by a previous work based on the victims of the bomb and some other dark creepy stuff. Joy.
actually a second viewing revealed that the background is mist - not snowy ground with 'fish-eyed' perspective (how it looks as a thumb here while I type)
sorry the sun is streaming through my curtains onto the monitor here
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