Chris Holland mother fucker
Chris mother fucking Holland
Mother fucking Chris Holland
Big holl
Holla at yeah
Chris Chris Piss Piss/
(Possible titles of my next book)
I don’t know why any “artistic” folks out there haven’t figured out that probably one of the coolest things would be to “tag” some dinosaur bones. I would like to see a bunch of dinosaur bones turned into a modern art. I would like to see a car, no forget that, a bicycle made out of a Brontosaurus. That’s what I call living green.
He would say these things sitting around a campfire and throw logs and glass wine bottles into the flames and tell us about how quantum mechanics were behind everything.
I am going to find a god damn stick and pull that god damn wine bottle out of the flames, you will see, it becomes something new.
And then he would… the wine bottle was something new, maybe blackened and missing the point. It was never exaggerated as he made it sound, but it made you think, and that was fun. Then out of no where he would take all the words he said and scramble them like potatoes in his mouth.
I wish we were made out of dinosaur bones and we rode bikes in our modern world and graffiti-ed wine bottles, now that is art.
And it sort of made sense. Not as much as the first statements, but still it was cool. And then we would throw more logs and wine bottles and brontosaurus bones onto the fire… because hell, it just felt good.
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