THIS MONKEY'S MIND A RIOT AND IN DESPERATION (back to the chronicles of a Dope Monkey)

Rustin and I galloped out into that orange-smattered, blue-tinted, and purple-phased dusk's promising horizon energized. Our vehicle was an old blue 88' Honda Civic. We were 16 damnit and we were freakin' invincible, well at least I thought I was, and so I chased this naive dream with very little doubt that I could ever be stopped. Rustin usually just laughed at my absurd behavior. I always wanting to smoke pot and consume as much liquor as I could possibly find as a minor. I was at the genesis of acquiring my status of a dope fiend, which eventually would transform me into a full blown dope monkey. Rustin was straight edge and I actually respected his character, but I couldn't really figure him out. He seemed so at ease and didn't seem to have any of those urges to escape as I did, so I out of respect I didn't act out as much around him. Looking back on this it was most likely better that his personality even-keeled mine out a bit when we were together. The first stop we made at one of his buddy's house, his 'Ska' band was meeting up to get in a few hours of practice. Since they were all straight edge naturally I wasn't offered any drugs or alcohol and was a bit uneasy and agitated, so I just smoked cigarettes and listened to his band practice until 9 or 10 that night. I hated that I felt so unnerved no matter where I was or who I was around if when sober. I could of been in the Bahamas sober and still would mainly focus on how I could get high or drunk. I really couldn't help it I figured, but thinking back on all those times it cooly helped me realize how sick my little brain was. I didn't merely have a one track mind, I was the owner of a compulsively steaming single destined-set thought processor that continued to chug further into desperation and unobtainable happiness.