<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346</id><updated>2011-07-07T19:38:19.501-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking a Left on Vine Street</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>24</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-6324739629688005588</id><published>2009-12-22T00:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T00:54:56.252-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nitrous</title><content type='html'>Oh geez, you want to do what with my teeth? and the ones front and center? I don't think so. My appointment is at 9am? I'm good. Ill just let them rot out from the inside or whatever, that can't be so bad. Well fine, I'll go if I must. Motor Trend is a decent magazine anyways. Wow, you are so happy to see me. and you seem so sincere! Is it because you are foreign? I'm not quite sure. The fact that she acted as if her job was so joyful seemed to comfort me. Ill let you tear whatever you want out of my mouth if you've got a smile on your face that isn't see through. Oh wait, what? YES I want laughing gas. This is turning around I tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First breathe the oxygen and then a tickle in my nostrils and then its like Im walking closer and closer to a happier place. Like Im going back in time. Im completely disoriented and yet so happy. My thought process is something to be admired at this point. Something I try everyday so hard to get to, and it's all right here. Surreal explains it best. Im in love. Oh, you've got a girlfriend? She loves you and is there for you? Yeah, that's cool, but i've got nitrous. And that means I just don't give a shit. How can a series of molecules rearranged into a different pattern change everything that matters to me in the world? And people believe in God? I just don't get it. still. I don't think I ever will. Oh and for the record, DEA and any narcotics "enforcement" sqaud can lick my nuts. You're jobs have no moral basis and that fact that you actually believe in what you do makes me sick to my stomach.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-6324739629688005588?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/6324739629688005588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=6324739629688005588' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/6324739629688005588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/6324739629688005588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2009/12/nitrous.html' title='Nitrous'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-1405504662114037500</id><published>2007-05-27T23:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-27T23:48:23.312-07:00</updated><title type='text'>oh baby</title><content type='html'>oh love of mine, don't be difficult.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-1405504662114037500?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/1405504662114037500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=1405504662114037500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/1405504662114037500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/1405504662114037500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2007/05/oh-baby.html' title='oh baby'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-5338840063399285566</id><published>2007-04-16T22:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-16T22:41:49.152-07:00</updated><title type='text'>what?</title><content type='html'>I've noticed you've noticed it's raining again. It's funny, isn't it, because it is your day off. Coincidence? possibly, but it wouldn't be if you decided to quit. Then you can have all the time to yourself. All the time to yourself. Did i make myself clear? i hope so, because with all that time comes an abundance of thought. You are too scared to think. thinking might re-arrange your future. That precious future you have all planned out. Such an inevitable future, and such an undeveloped mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-5338840063399285566?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/5338840063399285566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=5338840063399285566' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/5338840063399285566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/5338840063399285566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2007/04/what.html' title='what?'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-115899158310524515</id><published>2006-09-22T23:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-22T23:06:23.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sincerely, yours</title><content type='html'>Blank. This space would be blank if i hadn't the initiative to type this. You are not reading this, you are reading code that happens to agree with what i am typing here tonight. As your mornings get darker and more tiresome, the prize in the distance gets further away. In a year, you won't even see it anymore, instead, you will forget about it and decide that you want a white picket fence. Because someone told you that would make you happy, because someone said "This is what life should look like." I guess i am confused. I don't really know what to believe anymore. Everyone with their completely different opinions, eeryone with their soft thoughts of suceeding. I am not this lucky, though. I am just lonely and lacking. Of what? of it all.  I can't decide what to believe, so therefore, I am in search. My prize will get closer, and reset when i win. But i will throw all my money away in the process, so i will still lose.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-115899158310524515?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/115899158310524515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=115899158310524515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/115899158310524515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/115899158310524515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2006/09/sincerely-yours.html' title='Sincerely, yours'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-115510878421286662</id><published>2006-08-09T00:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-09T00:33:04.223-07:00</updated><title type='text'>12:10</title><content type='html'>I have never looked at the starslike i have tonight. They make me wonder who is looking at them with me, but too far away for my eyes to see, Where i can wish to be happy and we can finaly meet, under the black and blue sky where our thoughts would first greet. I don't care for your name, I just care for your body which I wish to proclaim, come wonder with me as we look to the moon and hope to meet the people with our same hobby soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The grass isn't cold, since our care  provides heat, and we haven't spoken a word so as not to play offbeat, this love is a musical piece where our eyes are the notes and our arms are the sheet, that holds all of the work on organised lines with warm melodies and soft key signs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dream that we lay here forever and the sun will be too scared to come up , as it would not want to be responsible  for the connection it would disrupt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-115510878421286662?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/115510878421286662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=115510878421286662' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/115510878421286662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/115510878421286662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2006/08/1210.html' title='12:10'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-115130436277262320</id><published>2006-06-25T23:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-25T23:46:02.783-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello.Goodbye.</title><content type='html'>What a strange feeling! How am I supposed to fake this? Is she oblivious to my feelings? What an odd situation. Of all the things that I promised myself I wouldn't partake in are being partook. Should I feel happy or sad? It's not as though I am not happy, it's that I am not satisfied. Satisfy me, please.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-115130436277262320?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/115130436277262320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=115130436277262320' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/115130436277262320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/115130436277262320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2006/06/hellogoodbye.html' title='Hello.Goodbye.'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-114922810130006703</id><published>2006-06-01T22:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-01T23:01:41.300-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Felt it.</title><content type='html'>perhaps wishing pain isn't the best idea. Your shape is so perfect, it is only too bad that your blind. You'll never see yourself, but not too many ever do. Not too many can look past what haunted reflections display. I speak as though I am special, but I could never be more wrong. I am binded with societys limits. Don't tell me I'm wrong. If everything is possible, then I'm not wrong. I am only just putting pieces toghether, until I am unable when they all fall out eventually. and darkness consumes me, and silence.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-114922810130006703?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/114922810130006703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=114922810130006703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/114922810130006703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/114922810130006703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2006/06/felt-it.html' title='Felt it.'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-114922787128334408</id><published>2006-06-01T22:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-01T22:57:51.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'>feel it.</title><content type='html'>I feel like someone just killed me accidently. In the back of their mind they knew exactly what they were doing, and yet, in the front of their mind is a wall with holes that only lets so much from the back out. Thank you, thank you for lying to me for as long as you did. And honestly, with such a disgusting pig, thats your choice? lies are what you spit out, and lies are what you will be taking in for as long as this lasts. I hope you hurt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-114922787128334408?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/114922787128334408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=114922787128334408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/114922787128334408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/114922787128334408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2006/06/feel-it.html' title='feel it.'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-114922730839494037</id><published>2006-06-01T22:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-01T22:48:28.403-07:00</updated><title type='text'>safe never felt so terrible</title><content type='html'>When I say that I think it is safe to say that my life is gay, I am only facing the truth, ok? Almost as if I am setting myself on fire, the days are growing longer and faster do I tire. I can't withstand all these repetative events, like weather does not on a certain teflon tent. and yet I am still alive, but for what purpose do I strive? and where do my thoughts derive? and ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-114922730839494037?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/114922730839494037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=114922730839494037' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/114922730839494037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/114922730839494037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2006/06/safe-never-felt-so-terrible.html' title='safe never felt so terrible'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-114524995500452323</id><published>2006-04-16T21:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-16T22:00:11.770-07:00</updated><title type='text'>how do you feel now?</title><content type='html'>great. now decide what you want to do with the rest of your life. exactly. go enjoy it before someone makes a law against it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-114524995500452323?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/114524995500452323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=114524995500452323' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/114524995500452323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/114524995500452323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2006/04/how-do-you-feel-now.html' title='how do you feel now?'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-114508889558390115</id><published>2006-04-15T01:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-15T01:14:55.593-07:00</updated><title type='text'>dont move, flow</title><content type='html'>You walk like you have done this before. You live like you have done this before, but you know. Things arent right. They seem confusing and dissapointed. YOU seem dissapointed. everything has lost it's taste. you punch numbers and letters and hope for a return. nobody is searching for you. you wish. you must do the searching. Search out the love of your neighbors and dont stop there. dont stop until everything you want is gone. then you shall live like nothing is wrong. nothing is wrong because there is nothing. all you have are the sounds that command  your head to move, to feel, to shake. Dont fear what hasn't happened. fear what has. Fear the thoughts that consume your brain and control your body. your blood runs through YOU and noone else. remember that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-114508889558390115?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/114508889558390115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=114508889558390115' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/114508889558390115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/114508889558390115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2006/04/dont-move-flow.html' title='dont move, flow'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-114491831638281698</id><published>2006-04-13T01:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T01:51:56.390-07:00</updated><title type='text'>why do you live?</title><content type='html'>things are never in focus until tears drop from your eyes in the middle of the night. Sitting on the hood of your car just thinking out loud. why people love you, how could they hate you. try to imagine what it would be if it wasnt how it is. It's like your on a railroad and you cant stop in time. like your flying one day and the next your in a cage. people wish you are dead, people wish you are dead for money. people think thoughts of horrible thoughts and never care how the world has stopped because of them. No lights for you, they are all the sky. The stars glaring down, cheering you on. They want you. you want them. But no matter what, someone nearby will yell in your ears that it wont ever come true. after your eyes close it comes true, but when they open. Thats when you wonder, is it real when i see the back of my eyelids? is it real when i can taste the ground and break my bones? the dirt on my skin? how can it just happen and never come back. a ticket for there and none for a return. thats when you realize, thats when you breathe, everything will work out soon. there is always a new day&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-114491831638281698?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/114491831638281698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=114491831638281698' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/114491831638281698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/114491831638281698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2006/04/why-do-you-live.html' title='why do you live?'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-114299117665107951</id><published>2006-03-21T17:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-21T17:32:56.663-08:00</updated><title type='text'>OMG !!!</title><content type='html'>Sup failure? hell yeah. i fail math tests. BUT, i skateboard which puts me back into perspective. understand it, fools&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-114299117665107951?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/114299117665107951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=114299117665107951' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/114299117665107951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/114299117665107951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2006/03/omg.html' title='OMG !!!'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-114267634069667056</id><published>2006-03-18T01:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-18T02:05:40.706-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh well, things change</title><content type='html'>Theres a deadline ahead. The comfort line is being crossed like a fat kid and pack of skittles on clearance. It's just a performance, but I don't we'll do so hott. We don't sound that great now. And why can't I write songs. Actualy, compared to aces over kings, I can write awesome songs. what a crappy band. How "already been done before". Suck it Aces over Kings, your bad at being a band, get over it. Blossoms on my tree's branches mean spring is on it's way. how exciting! Spring is such a pleasant time of year, not as great as autumn, but hey, I'm not complaining (even though I kind of just did). Wow, this is a really gay blog, my other blogs are way sweeter then this one. I want to say it's because my other blogs were written 2 years ago. I'm still confused at society, still really don't "get it". I think andy machulas has shown me something lately, what? I couldn't tell you, but im starting to see things differently. Im seeing this end shortly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-114267634069667056?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/114267634069667056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=114267634069667056' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/114267634069667056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/114267634069667056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2006/03/oh-well-things-change.html' title='Oh well, things change'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-110352124857812065</id><published>2004-12-19T21:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-19T21:40:48.576-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Green and Red and Red and Green</title><content type='html'>         December, it just sounds pleasing. Cold weather, fog and the ability to view your breath just as it leaves your mouth. Christmas is at mind when December is brought up, and everyone loves such days. Days of merriment and happiness. But I can say that I am not truly into the spirit this year, that is so because my liscence is so close, April. And  I won't let anything get in my way of freedom. ta ta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-110352124857812065?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/110352124857812065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=110352124857812065' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/110352124857812065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/110352124857812065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2004/12/green-and-red-and-red-and-green.html' title='Green and Red and Red and Green'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-109712046512146536</id><published>2004-10-06T20:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-06T20:45:18.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bright Red Jumpsuits</title><content type='html'>October is here, and what an awesome month it is. Trees are turning color and you get that great autumn smell. But you know what the great part is? Scaring children! Like you don't. Everyone does. When a kid comes up to my door and has the nerve to ask &lt;em&gt;me&lt;/em&gt; to give &lt;em&gt;him&lt;/em&gt; candy then he's just asking to get scared. So what do I do? I do what every one else does! I pull out a butcher knife and chase the little bastard down the street! No I'm just kidding, but just to let you know, I'm on the edge this Halloween. But then why would a kid like me stay inside and hand out candy when he could be outside getting his own? Because he's too old? Hell no, because that's what I'm going to do. Besides it's the one night of the whole year that you get to go outside with a costume on and not be ridiculed 'till your ego is smashed and you're lying there crying your eyes out because big Jimmy decided to make fun of your well put toghether ensemble that mommy made you. I've trick or treated every Halloween of my life, and just because I'm growing facial hair and am able to join the local boy's bass choir doesn't mean I'm going to throw away such a sacred and well practiced tadition. I love trick-or-treating and nothing anyone says is going to change that. (Except of course Carmen Electra)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-109712046512146536?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/109712046512146536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=109712046512146536' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/109712046512146536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/109712046512146536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2004/10/bright-red-jumpsuits.html' title='Bright Red Jumpsuits'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-109651576312412649</id><published>2004-09-29T20:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-29T20:42:43.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun to Eat, No Need to Heat</title><content type='html'>       Almost is the word on the tip of everyone's tongue. For the promise land is soon to arrive. I , too, am waiting for what has been said to come. Yes, I am talking about winter, that faithful section of the year that ends and begins. Winter is what we all anticipate. I anticipate it more, probably, than some, because the cold weather somehow makes scence to me (it's a washington thing). For when the clouds are grey is when I am most normal. I can cope with what the world is being put through. I can cope with death. For I can cope with most everything and continue my days, my days as a lonesome boy who has humble views towards everything. Winter is when my true natural self comes into view. When I am prepared to take whatever happens. When I am grateful for the things I have I'm usually freezing my ass off outside. It's then when you realize how heat is so important. But when you come prepared you will experiance nothing more than pure enjoyment. The worries are washed away when the snow is falling and the wet ground reflecting all the lights that are shining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that most of the people I know that read these entries that I type expect funny things, but when I get home I am not funny,  only at school will I crack jokes and entertain. I use this blog to express my views on life itself, to share my confrontations with crap and show people that there are other people out there that feel normal about things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-109651576312412649?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/109651576312412649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=109651576312412649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/109651576312412649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/109651576312412649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2004/09/fun-to-eat-no-need-to-heat.html' title='Fun to Eat, No Need to Heat'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-109642774891785125</id><published>2004-09-28T19:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-28T20:15:48.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Answer was B</title><content type='html'>     Dear Readers,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;         I can't begin to explain how much an ego makes me feel. I sincerely hate people who constantly think they are superior to me even though we match in age. Oh My gOD!!! YouRE In PrE CaLCULUS??? YoU MUsT Be a gENIus!!! Fuck you. Fuck you Fuck you Fuck you. Youre no more special than I. Intelligence should not be measured by what freaking math class youre in. If you think youre so much smarter than me, fine, but bragging about youre class is only going to earn you a black eye. I guarantee that I'm more intelligent than 3/4 of the kids in pre cal. I use the word "kids" strongly in that sentence because that's what they are, they are immature little brats that think their the best thing since alluminum foil. I feel it doesn't matter what classes you take, you're sill going to end up with a job that includes a cubicle and a telephone. Ha Ha,  I, unlike you, am probably much more suited for a job than you're "whiz kids" because I don't feel like the universe revolves around me. I know how the system works, and I don't need people to help me with everything. You "advanced" (advanced in assmanship) students ask for help constantly. If you don't get it then jump out a window. We surely don't need anymore of you running around. You guys suck and will never suceed in anthing that requieres good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-109642774891785125?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/109642774891785125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=109642774891785125' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/109642774891785125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/109642774891785125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2004/09/answer-was-b.html' title='The Answer was B'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-109617362248467981</id><published>2004-09-25T21:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-25T21:40:22.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fly Me to the Moon</title><content type='html'>         Why So?&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;        Why so must this world be what it is? Why can't it be what so many hope it to be? Send me on a quest, send me somewhere, I don't care where. I will leave everything behind me, just give me something to remain alive for. Hey I think I totally know what that quest is. A girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-109617362248467981?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/109617362248467981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=109617362248467981' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/109617362248467981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/109617362248467981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2004/09/fly-me-to-moon.html' title='Fly Me to the Moon'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-109582108584531452</id><published>2004-09-21T19:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-21T19:44:45.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Procrastination Vacation</title><content type='html'>         Dear Readers,&lt;br /&gt;                Inspired by local news broadcasts, I feel that it is my responsibility to get out there and follow the new trend, stabbing someone. Not only is stabbing someone entirely risky and inefficient, but very easy to get caught doing. When you stab someone, you have a small chance of missing the vital organs completely, and your stuck with a knife that has you're prints on (not to mention if you piss on the dead body, you're leaving evidence and deserve nothing more  than to be shot in the face). I hope I am never stabbed. Getting stabbed is like jumping in a lake during a lightning storm. You have to, or &lt;em&gt;get&lt;/em&gt; to, feel the blade inside your own body. Now to me, that doesn't sound like much fun, and it probably doesn't sound much fun to you either, unless your, of course, &lt;a href="http://www.warphead.com/modules/news/article.php?storyid=399"&gt;this guy&lt;/a&gt;. But then again, I might be wrong, which I rarely am. But anyways, I just thought I'd say that the title of this blog has absolutely nothing to do with this entry. Well I guess I might as well say, that everything seems "good" in Nathan's world. And since it is "good" then something bad is right around the corner. Man, I sure can't wait till I graduate and I can start my own life and live in my own house, and not have to be nagged about what needs to be done. I'll tell you when it needs to be done, bitch. Heres some advice, don't grow a lawn, because the chances are, your neighbor has one right next door. Instead make something that doesn't need to be kept up. Build a cement skatepark that everyone can enjoy. It sure as hell beats a freaking lawn. No maitinence what-so-ever, except the occasional paralized neighborhood kids body, but you can turn him into a skate obstacle, if you mess up, who cares! he can't feel it! Oh yeah, also, hot tubs are just lame. Save up your money and buy a pool. You can empty it and skate or you can swim in it. Either way, it beats sitting in a slowly heated tub of water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                  Editor in Chief&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-109582108584531452?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/109582108584531452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=109582108584531452' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/109582108584531452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/109582108584531452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2004/09/procrastination-vacation.html' title='Procrastination Vacation'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-109530675283171055</id><published>2004-09-15T20:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-15T20:52:32.830-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Congratulations To Local Teen on Accomplishment</title><content type='html'>         Yes, congratulations to me. What I have been planning and designing in my spare time has been completed. All I did was think about it and it met and surpassed my expectations. There it is sitting on my floor. I am so proud. It was my project, and it provided me with motivation to get through each day. My days were better when I had something to look forward to. Everyone needs something to look forward to. A project is a very good idea. When you have a project that you can work on it makes getting through the day more exciting because your anticipation level is raised each minute. When you have something to work on life is great, it doesn't even matter what whatever your working on will turn out to be, just as long as something occupies your time and makes you feel accomplished at the end of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-109530675283171055?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/109530675283171055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=109530675283171055' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/109530675283171055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/109530675283171055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2004/09/congratulations-to-local-teen-on.html' title='Congratulations To Local Teen on Accomplishment'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-109522070844468306</id><published>2004-09-14T20:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-14T20:58:28.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Realization</title><content type='html'>             Recents events have led me to question purpous. I do not understand the typical life of a human being. We wake up and go to work, then go back home and await this to all happen again. I am scared that this will be my fate. I wish for a destiny that contains excitement and things that will keep me guessing, but I feel that that will not be the case. I contain average grades in high school. I participate in everything that everyone else participates in, I blend in with what everyone else is. I feel that this will lead me down the path that everyone seems to be following and I'm not ready to walk. It's hard to continue with something when you cannot even predict an outcome. I may want to be an architect now, but what about in a week? 2 weeks? I don't even know what being an architect means. I will probably just end up in a cubicle like everyone else, until I wake up from reality and discover what I have become. My dreams are nothing but to be shattered in front of me while I take it in as nothing. Everyone has dreams in which they soon forget because the odds are against them. The odds are against me every where I go. When you figure out how to decode odds, I will be overlooked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-109522070844468306?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/109522070844468306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=109522070844468306' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/109522070844468306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/109522070844468306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2004/09/realization.html' title='The Realization'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-109486247215310487</id><published>2004-09-10T17:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-10T17:27:52.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Prologue to Greatness</title><content type='html'>       &lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Every once in awhile, a little magic happens on the web. Sometimes you come across something that touches you. No everyone I'm not talking about porn, I'm talking about a site independently created and run by an independently independant person. With a little help from google my ideas and present experiances will be shared with anyone who wishes to read them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;    Sometimes getting things off your chest is a very relieving experiance and sometimes taking a crap is a very relieving experiance, but all in all, everyone just needs to be relieved. Maybe, a beautiful women will come across this site and decide I'm the coolest person ever, that would relieve a little part of me that hasn't been relieved in a long, long time. So without further ado, enjoy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;                                         Editor in Cheif,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;                                          Nathan Arrowsmith&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-109486247215310487?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/109486247215310487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=109486247215310487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/109486247215310487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/109486247215310487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2004/09/prologue-to-greatness.html' title='Prologue to Greatness'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8281346.post-109486193336084611</id><published>2004-09-10T17:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-10T19:07:46.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Recent Cold Weather Makes Shivering Teen</title><content type='html'>  It's Washington, I know, but seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    When I woke up to an open window it was a relief and a doce of summer. Now, its a doce of Washington. Washington is rain and cold. Don't get me wrong, I like Washington, I like rain (partly because my hair looks great when it's wet) and I like snow. But when I get out of the shower, it becomes personal. Well , into my personal space that is. Everybody knows when you get out of a morning shower it's freaking cold, but you have to get out of the shower as fast as possible because "children are dying in Africa blah, blah, blah" I like the shower, and I'm going to stay in the shower for as long as I want to (usually around 7 minutes). But anyways, my real point is that summer came and went. Washington doesn't gradually end summer by making it cooler and cooler, it makes it 80 degrees one day and 54 the next. I get no time to adapt. You see, I'm like a little leopard gecko who's chilling in his cage, then some tired youngster unplugs my heat lamp and the temperature drops quickly.  When I look out my window I see grey sky's and rain, and for some reason, I like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                                              Editor in Cheif&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8281346-109486193336084611?l=vinestreet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/feeds/109486193336084611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8281346&amp;postID=109486193336084611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/109486193336084611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8281346/posts/default/109486193336084611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vinestreet.blogspot.com/2004/09/recent-cold-weather-makes-shivering.html' title='Recent Cold Weather Makes Shivering Teen'/><author><name>Author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04248109505948958019</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v286/idontcare236/creationofme1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
