like a shitty van wilder

This morning, after violently coughing up a thick, goopy ball of green drink, I saw three orange butterflies arranged in a circle, slowly flapping their wings in unison. I’m pretty sure they were conducting a séance or engaging in some sort of telepathic ménage à trois.  It was the second nicest thing I experienced this week.

Last night, my school advisor informed me that although he said two weeks ago that he was fine with me working on my senior project away from campus, he has since changed his mind.  He told me, "I know you just want to get out of here, but it sounds like you just want to get out of here." 

That sounds like a Ballatician$ lyric.

sorry

word that last post was a bit cryptic.  I apologize for that.  I was bugging out.  I think it's because I got an oil stain from some organic peanut butter on my suede shoes and I got pretty mad about it.  Don't worry though I'll get over it.  That's what I get for buying fancy peanut butter like an asshole.

Some resolutions (my new year starts arbitrarily):

1. Stop apologizing

2. Ball harder

3. Finish and release waaaaaaay more music

On that note, Bustin just put a single, "I Know," up on iTunes.  We'd love the support if you can spare 99 cents.  Think of it as a throwback to the '90s when you thought music was worth paying for.

I might start putting more random things up here for download.  Then again, maybe not, who could say.

DOWNLOAD "I KNOW"

postcocious

Question:  If a hipster falls in the forest, and no one takes a photo, did it still happen?

Its been getting real tropical up in this bitch, type a shit makes me want to paint my face and go cannibal.

more on the question later

CET: Timezone for Pussies

i've been chilling in the CET. That stands for something like "central european timezone". I haven't bothered to check if that's correct. As you know, the nba playoffs have begun. Because basketball is a wondrous, godly sport, it's played in America. As such, it occurs during reasonable hours. Unless you're 9 hours ahead of PST. So here I am, at 607 in the morning, waiting for the blazers/suns halftime to be over so i can continue to stream it from my friend's borrowed computer.

The spurs are nutting on the competition.

Ginobili looks like Sin City.

Berlin is overrun with Canadian graphic designers.

I miss the crew. no homeowner.

ljl

ps: stay tuned for my true story about how I got wasted, took tons of pills, then walked around the red light district of amsterdam crying because i couldn't get a boner.

pps: ive had no computer for over a month and so i still haven't heard the new ballatician$ ep and that really really really really pisses me off. I bump the wolfgang all across this half-assed continent.

ppps: this european ash cloud messed everything up. I'm headed to stockholm this week to hopefully make some rappity rap with skugen av svampen (there's a super decent chance i mispronounced their name). I'm also looking for my gorgeous swedish wife with tits the size of me.

RIP GURU

Free balls deep and dropping

I know what this kid's thinking.  

I've been there.  

He's wondering, "why haven't the Ballatician$ released any new music?"

Soon my friend.  Soon.

In Memory of Curtis

Today is a sad day for everyone.

I accidentally murdered my roommate Curtis while doing laundry. I was taking my clothes out of the washer and saw a furry little lump at the bottom, so I picked it up all innocent like "what's that shit?" When I realized, I dropped it and screamed like a little girl.

What the fuck Curtis. How did you get IN THERE?!

His fur was all smoothed out and clean and he looked like a flattened stuffed animal. But it wasn't a stuffed animal. It was a dead mouse.

Fuck. I was only trying to do my laundry.

THE GOVERNMENT FOUND ME

A woman showed up at my door claiming to be from the Census Bureau. She seemed alarmed that I was wearing my pajamas at 1 in the afternoon. Clearly we were on different wavelengths. She asked me for my address, which I thought was odd considering she had already found her way to my house. I think she was testing me, because when I told her I live in Barrytown she looked at her clipboard and replied, "no. no, you live in Red Hook." Don't tell me where I live, woman. I gave her the wrong zip code just to keep her on her toes. She also asked how many people live in the cabin. I mentioned The Famous Flying Ostrich, but I didn't tell her about the shrews. Do you think I should have?

On a side note, I've decided I'm going to turn in the two Ballatician$ albums for my senior project. Once they hear Long Time Cummin' they're sure to hand me my diploma on the spot.

P.S. Don't shit in my hummus, shrews. I need it for sustenance.