In this silly little game called life there are many roads: long ones, short ones, ones diverged from a yellow wood. I'm not interested in these roads, though. I'm interested in the hidden paths, the rough and rocky short-cuts. These paths are barely visible, however. Only the line-straddlers see them; yes, the line straddlers. These select few "straddle" the line between intelligent, goal-driven goodie two-shoes and narcotic consuming, promiscuity fueled, low-life. For those happy with one side or the other, good luck. As for the line-straddlers, rejoice.
Rebirth of the Beatnik
May 3, 2010