I'm a strange lad with a addictive penchant for red vines. In my spare time, I listen to Kiss and eat peanut butter right out of the jar with my fingers. Often times, I do these two activities simultaneously. I recently moved back to the valley that ate my youth in California's middle, to pursue my career in poisoning the young mind's at a high school with ashtrays (See: Junior College). I often times think this world is too insane for a cool dude like me. Death is an option, but a risky gamble. So, I'll ride this wave out and see what kind of apocalypse the next president can cook up in his lab of tubes and green smoke.
Choice chemicals and meditation. I write to bring the unconscious to the conscious, to figure out what I didn't know.
Orwell, Stephen King, HST, Brett Ellis. Early Palahniuk.
Clockwork Orange, Catcher in the Rye, 1984, Fight Club, Cloud Atlas.
No one has written on Drew Stutsman's wall.
No one has written on Drew Stutsman's wall.