Hurricane.

"Oh man, the shit you Pete says, bro; you have no idea."
- Bob, and I don't. I really don't.

Bob's back, his shoulder is still fucked but he comes in every now and again. Can't say I'm glad he's back but at the same time, I can't complain. He should really get some rest but that nigga won't listen unless he's getting paid, saying that brought a comfort to me :L don't know why though.

Bob was saying something about Pete, how he often tells him about all the disgusting shit he's done, of course, the fact that he's done disgusting shit doesn't phase me, in fact, it would worry me if he hadn't done anything disgusting in his 50 years of existence. It was the fact that he told Bob about them. Whenever I'm in the truck with Pete, there isn't so much as a whimper let alone conversation. The sun rays in out eyes, the whistling of wind blowing through both of our windows as well has the constant grumble of the engine that resides in the moving weapon we're sitting in. It's kinda nice, I enjoy my company as much as he enjoys his but had me thinking about people's relationships with other people, you know, taking yourself completely out of the picture and just wonder how things click.

It sounds like a complaint but really, it's anything but. I just find it fascinating how things react when you put them in different conditions. Maybe this is a part the "growing up" I so urgently need to do.

Hurricane (Flatdisk Remix) - Orjan Nilsen & Christina Novelli