The Gonzo Wolf

Great food, and you get 3 hours of free parking! If you plan on spending time in Bishop Arts, it’s the best way to start.

THEY WILL ASK YOU SEVERAL TIMES IF YOU VALIDATED YOUR PARKING. IT’S AN $87 TICKET!

Feeling like absolute shite today? Overwhelmed with war and death? Get outdoors. Connect. Ground yourself. Get some sun. Talk to people. I’d also push both the new Zombie & Gorillaz albums. Choose what you ingest; don’t let them choose for you.

I’m telling you, I slapped tf out of my acoustic guitar this morning and growled to poor man’s heaven. I feel terrific. Almost good enough to play for people tomorrow.

I need a microphone and fresh ears. I have things to say. You should as well.

This resturant also plays the best 80’s music. Already heard Starship, Roxette, and INXS!

Gentlemen (and I use that term loosely), if you’re looking for the best trim and shave in Dallas, come see my Mike at The King’s Club.

Don’t be a scared, sundown-town crackers. Bring your butts to the real world.

Scatter-brained.

Deep breaths.

I lied. I don’t feel fantastic at all. I feel…done.

On the edge of panic, chest tightening, and…done.

Isn’t this what I’m supposed to do here? Write my feelings? my adventures? My ambitions?

Why? What would they bring but more unobtainable dreams, just within my grasp and jerked away as my fingertips kiss the edge?

Millions of years of geographical battles and evolution, only to be undone by a handful of old, rich men who need special pills to get their dicks up, even when their target is underage and right up their alleys.

Billions of souls on this goddamn rock vs. four wrinkly twats. Somehow, were losing.

I sit at the barber shop waiting my turn, and I am tempted to tell him to shave me bare; face and head.

It’s metaphorical rebirth, and it seems to work for Brittany Spears every decade or so. Poor girl. Only family can drive someone that crazy.

It’s the American old-west sans honor, and prostitution is illegal. What’s left? Drinking? Hash bars? The same people making a fortune off the whiskey fund the poons who want to make you drink it in the first place.

I’ve had enough of the outdoors. It’s time to sneak back.