Suicidal Slam and That Redheaded Chick

Its nine am, my breath tastes like stale cigarettes and probably smells worse. My eyes are bloodshot and dilated, I smell like last nights sweat and there's blood (mine or someone else's) on my pant leg from slamming in the pit last night at Suicidal Tendencies.

I met Roger Miret from Agnostic Front, he was next to me in the crowd during his brothers band Madballs set. Fuckin crazy as hell man, cool dude, mellow surprisingly.

I need to start the days activities, probably mainly theft, theres not much else on my itinerary for the day. I don't steal, I don't eat, or smoke, let alone get high, and I've been far too sober here lately.

My burnt out mind barely has time to think about this girl I met, Jessica, a cute red head with a dick head ol man.

I've got a weakness for the damsel in distress though it's never played out well before. It's probably just another facet of my self destructive nature.