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Somewhere between the months of January and March of 2009 I moved into a house. What followed was a blurry series of sleepless nights, sleepy days and much education on such subjects as the art of alcohol consumption, the precise nature of "bad vibes", and the overall human condition. What follows is a photo essay that seeks to capture what it is to live at the nexus of sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll.
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rehab doesn't give sweatshirts who are they kidding. (but if they do, i want one)
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