Post by warren anthony castle on Sept 14, 2012 13:01:06 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true] |
GROWING UP, IT WON'T BRING US DOWN. WE'RE IN THIS TOGETHER, YEAH, WE'LL MAKE IT SOMEHOW.
today was a typical day in the life of warren castle. the man woke up on a bench in the park at around about eleven, clutching to his guitar in its case tightly with his large backpack being used as a pillow. he often wondered how he'd managed to go so long without being mugged by some asshole, though he guessed that maybe there was some sympathy for the homeless these days, more sympathy when they saw how young he was. either way, warren was thankful he'd managed to keep his things with him and after his eyes adjusted to the morning light he hauled himself up into a sitting position before stretching his arms out wide enough to make several joints click. rubbing the sleep from his eyes, it didn't take too long for the man to be up on his feet for another day to begin, this time taking him toward the mall.
the mall was a place that warren enjoyed to perform at, not only were there lots of people passing him to offer some change, but he had to admit that he adored the thrill of possibly getting caught by the mall cop and having to outrun the fat bastard. with a bright smile on his face, warren hung his guitar off his shoulder with his rucksack on his back and began the short walk toward the mall where he was hoping reagan wasn't about to bail on him. warren wasn't the sort of guy to have friends, at least not anymore. nobody wants to hang out with a guy on the streets who hasn't showered in... eight days, maybe? possibly more. although to be fair, it wasn't that obvious with warren, he did own a can of deodorant that he often used but of course you can only mask a scent for so long until it becomes overpowering. thankfully he hadn't reached that stage yet.
in a matter of minutes, warren had reached the spot near the entrance that he liked to illegally claim as his own, set his bag down behind him before placing his guitar case on the floor. opening it up, warren pulled the guitar out and pushed the case in front of him, lid flipped open with a few coins inside to persuade people to offer some change. usually it was cents that people gave, but a few cents is better than no cents. with a pick in his mouth, warren quickly tuned his guitar before waiting around until it was the right time to start playing. he wanted to make sure he caught the most amount of people as they went into the mall, he didn't want to miss a large crowd that could potentially tip him well.
once satisfied with his surroundings, warren began to strum his guitar to the chords of a new song that he'd written not too long ago. song writing seemed to be the only thing to keep the man going, heck, music seemed like warren's only will to live. he wanted to express himself with his voice and his guitar and he wanted to share it with the world. music never hurt him, not like everything else. "photograph, remembering the summer. it takes me back to southern california," the male began to sing, his voice filling the quiet air of footsteps and mild chattering. "where the girls would all pass on the boardwalk and laugh at our desperate attempts and our sunburned backs, we never had a chance, i remember that."
the mall was a place that warren enjoyed to perform at, not only were there lots of people passing him to offer some change, but he had to admit that he adored the thrill of possibly getting caught by the mall cop and having to outrun the fat bastard. with a bright smile on his face, warren hung his guitar off his shoulder with his rucksack on his back and began the short walk toward the mall where he was hoping reagan wasn't about to bail on him. warren wasn't the sort of guy to have friends, at least not anymore. nobody wants to hang out with a guy on the streets who hasn't showered in... eight days, maybe? possibly more. although to be fair, it wasn't that obvious with warren, he did own a can of deodorant that he often used but of course you can only mask a scent for so long until it becomes overpowering. thankfully he hadn't reached that stage yet.
in a matter of minutes, warren had reached the spot near the entrance that he liked to illegally claim as his own, set his bag down behind him before placing his guitar case on the floor. opening it up, warren pulled the guitar out and pushed the case in front of him, lid flipped open with a few coins inside to persuade people to offer some change. usually it was cents that people gave, but a few cents is better than no cents. with a pick in his mouth, warren quickly tuned his guitar before waiting around until it was the right time to start playing. he wanted to make sure he caught the most amount of people as they went into the mall, he didn't want to miss a large crowd that could potentially tip him well.
once satisfied with his surroundings, warren began to strum his guitar to the chords of a new song that he'd written not too long ago. song writing seemed to be the only thing to keep the man going, heck, music seemed like warren's only will to live. he wanted to express himself with his voice and his guitar and he wanted to share it with the world. music never hurt him, not like everything else. "photograph, remembering the summer. it takes me back to southern california," the male began to sing, his voice filling the quiet air of footsteps and mild chattering. "where the girls would all pass on the boardwalk and laugh at our desperate attempts and our sunburned backs, we never had a chance, i remember that."
WORDS: 716 NOTES: hope this is okay for a starting point!
[/center]
