August 1st will by my sixth anniversary here. I wasn't expecting to stay here this long, and I know recently, I've been threatening to leave. It is true that I've always wanted to live in San Francisco. ever since I was a little kid, but I've thought long and hard about it, and I'm not leaving. ever. Was I talking about San Francisco or my penis? These days of my life have been the happiest, most fun, most productive, most drunkest, most fulfilling days ever. Damn, I don't think that was gramatically correct what so ever. Yeah, that's me, Tomatoes, . . . gramattically incorrect. I feel like I'm supposed to be here. And if you're reading this and don't live in LA, you probably have some totally incorrect picture of it. You're probably thinking something totally different than what it actually is. I'm an atheist to the teeth, but still I always feel like I'm in direct communication with god purely from the weather. God tells me if I'm doing right just by how it feel outside. It actually gets cold at night. I mean, if I have a vasectomy, is it  actually even wrong for me to have sex with my relatives? There's no chance that we're going to breed. Especially, if it's a man. I mean, what kind of a child would that produce anyway? Two men sharing gentle caresses under the moonlight. and then, wallah! some weird fucking looking baby spawned by homosexual incest. All one needs is a shovel and such said moonlight to make those such said wrongs right. The shovel: the implement to end all implements. It serves so many purposes.