Man, my Dad. Seriously the best dude ever. He used to have this killer van, actually, at one point both of my parents drove incredible vans. Anyway his van had a table in the back. If you were sitting on the bench seats in the back you were also sitting at a table, fucking ready for anything. The license plate, not joking, was STRCRZR. So some years ago when I was commissioning an artist to do a portrait of another van, and she asked me what I wanted the license plate to say, I of course took the chance to honor my father.
Those who cruz the stars in vans are heroes in hessian mythology. For the great explores of a modern generation, consciousness is our only frontier. And for a stoned 26 year old dude in his unfurnished apartment wishing he could assemble enough change to score a burrito, there are records like this:
credit where it is due
credit where it is due
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