The Ghost of Mike Jones

I am a slave to the Skatepark.

My blog has become nothing but a shitty recount of my terrible summer days, leaving behind it's past of imaginitive stories and strange Tirzah/Pierre/Mariah inspired thought processes. I feel I must somehow reclaim these times, but when i try to write, it just doesn't flow like it used to.

Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that my brain is made out of evaporated milk.