December 2010
got skype? add me fools- julio.vergara62
The night-walkers.
We have a stigma against the night-walkers. Our sleeping patterns derived from our adaptative ancestors. They needed the morning sun for hunting and gathering. They, at the time did not have an artificial light source. By nightfall, time and activeness has taken a toll, there vigorous bodies now torpid. The dark sky convenient for there eyes to lay rest. This is why our bodies perfectly synergize...
My iPod on full blast, me dancing in my room
tofixabrokensoul:
I’m like
imaginary audience is like
my mom walks in seeing me like
she’s looking at me like
I see her and I’m like
she walks away like
I see her leave and I’m like
Your car is Japanese. Your pizza is Italian. Your...
whipsandgrams asked: thanks for followinggg :) xx
whipsandgrams asked: thanks for followinggg :) xx
babymoose:
I would freak out when my favourite blogs follow me,
but I don’t want to scare them off,
so I just sit here like
I usually don't like things of this nature but... →
cuckoocuckoo:
Some of the guys from The Babosadas (my live band) are in a group called The Avantist. The band consists of four beautifully talented and intelligent spanish brothers. They’re EP release party/performance is this sunday.
The song above is one of my favorites by them entitled: Young (This version is a demo) check it out. If you’re in Chicago come get drunk and dance with us! xo
I am convinced
Dandruff shampoo only gives you more dandruff.
Extremely interesting sleeping facts, check it. →
Release.
My best friend Ryan recently told me something that touched my heart. He concernedly said, ” Julio, I am not lonely but i feel alone”. Although he did not put it in the context of which i am about to disclose. I profoundly agree with the man. It is exactly how i currently feel. Earlier today i wrote a verse about my ideal women and what i presume as to what comes with the package....
Solitude
Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone. For the sad old earth must borrow it’s mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. Sing, and the hills will answer; Sigh, it is lost on the air. The echoes bound to a joyful sound, But shrink from voicing care. Rejoice, and men will seek you; Grieve, and they turn and go. They want full measure of all your pleasure, But they do...
Every man dies. Not every man really lives. – William Wallace