Fuck

What great a time. Time spent in another place more futile than here. All I have to say is that Chico brings more to the table than a place with more money and people. Reno, oh Reno, where the fuck do you belong? A Wednesday night, far from what a Wednesday provides here in this town of Chico. I walked through casinos, bars, and clubs. Like most things, there was nothing. Disgusting homosapians pressing a button for hours and the view of obesity; more dead than a corpse six feet down. Chico, a town less than half the population of Reno, has a better night life than that pathetic place. It was sad, melancholic, and thoroughly depressing. Leaving this place, which feels so small, to attend a city which seems to dwarf our little northern Californian town to only be presented with repulsive humans, dead venues, and more expensive drinks and cigarettes (much emphasis on that final point) was heart breaking. It confirmed my feelings of hatred for this country or at least this “west” we live in. Let us be honest with each other. This country, the same as Chico, and Reno, have faltered. No longer can you find pure, unadulterated, welcoming fun. There is judgement, exorbitant costs, and even if you can pay the price, you only receive a fraction of what you once could. The stories told from our parents and mentors are nothing but that, stories. I almost wish to call them legends. Something we all aww at knowing we will never experience such freedom or joy. It is too late for us; too late to change what has already permeated itself into the smallest cracks of our society. People ask me why I drink so much. Why the fuck do you think? Just look around. Open your eyes for a moment and see how degenerate all has become. Thank the universe I only have one more year here. I’m looking forward to drinking somewhere else, and most likely, hopefully, less. Where does Reno belong? The same place we all belong, Hell.