vf: visual fucks not given.
Yet when I came to first class, sitting with this new perspective, someone seemed to try and rob it as if they were the lord to ascertain the contents of people's hearts. The people were hostile. Those two women of before, utter shit. Laughing at me in these half crocked smiles. Or not a smile at all.
I remember the grimace of the one before at the bench outside and shuddered. I explained no shame for the purposes of this blog, " I specialize in finding new methods for comics." The entire effort of mine was a promotion of the blog, yet no one knew- they just looked on with hatred and basically anger. It was as if I had unlocked the crows of the dark beyonds.
Yet only a green haired belle was only one of friendliness. The class was instantly a waste of time and I had to again bide my time for the class to be over so I could sit out and vomit at how much a vomit fest that craphole shit was. Utter shit. Yet I wanted yet another portfolio for this said portfolio class but what a waste of utter time as far I knew and would be proven true-that class was never worthy of my efforts and my efforts of trying to find pieces-were substantially ruined even venturing for a shit estate. Yet I never knew how far the stench of hell went.
Yet one day I sit on these benches near the art class room and what I see is like a 90s cartoon doge in everyone and then these ramblings of hate in the expressions of the environment and everyone within. A completely polluted sphere from where I was and I could not wait nor rest here. In the escape of what was a deconstruction of reality, I would try to reason with that class later that day but I can't. The seats were crap, the teacher was, the other students were and so was everything surrounding this room. A dangerous girl lurked inside. The teacher dangerous as fuck. There waited in another period, supposed graphic classmate who added ever more danger in another time period and typically this was a dangerous set up but I continued as everyone else but yet not everyone else-just for the subject matter. The place of the estate was polluted and altered and so worse than the last semester as if a bunch of goblins had spat and shat all over the place rendering all people you could encounter in any manner in venom of a warzone so dangerous you should not sit out and ponder kellogs as blood cells as a potential art form for a comic you fund to write and draw in the week end.
I remember the grimace of the one before at the bench outside and shuddered. I explained no shame for the purposes of this blog, " I specialize in finding new methods for comics." The entire effort of mine was a promotion of the blog, yet no one knew- they just looked on with hatred and basically anger. It was as if I had unlocked the crows of the dark beyonds.
Yet only a green haired belle was only one of friendliness. The class was instantly a waste of time and I had to again bide my time for the class to be over so I could sit out and vomit at how much a vomit fest that craphole shit was. Utter shit. Yet I wanted yet another portfolio for this said portfolio class but what a waste of utter time as far I knew and would be proven true-that class was never worthy of my efforts and my efforts of trying to find pieces-were substantially ruined even venturing for a shit estate. Yet I never knew how far the stench of hell went.
Yet one day I sit on these benches near the art class room and what I see is like a 90s cartoon doge in everyone and then these ramblings of hate in the expressions of the environment and everyone within. A completely polluted sphere from where I was and I could not wait nor rest here. In the escape of what was a deconstruction of reality, I would try to reason with that class later that day but I can't. The seats were crap, the teacher was, the other students were and so was everything surrounding this room. A dangerous girl lurked inside. The teacher dangerous as fuck. There waited in another period, supposed graphic classmate who added ever more danger in another time period and typically this was a dangerous set up but I continued as everyone else but yet not everyone else-just for the subject matter. The place of the estate was polluted and altered and so worse than the last semester as if a bunch of goblins had spat and shat all over the place rendering all people you could encounter in any manner in venom of a warzone so dangerous you should not sit out and ponder kellogs as blood cells as a potential art form for a comic you fund to write and draw in the week end.
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