How much for the ape?

What hmfta is lacking in updates and actual, you know, writings. We make up in news posts. Even though there is no writing to post, the first howmuchfortheape.com wallpaper is now a fact. The fact that I wanted a background for my twitter has nothing to do with this.

On the note of writings: I have seen some ideas bouncing of some walls, the problem is that I think somebody left the window open and now everybody is trying to catch the ideas with a butterfly net.

Meanwhile you can find the wallpaper attached to this news post.

Hello there readers (are there even readers),

About a year ago I decided to do something with my domain, from that howmuchfortheape.com was born. However, we're a good seven and half month after the "has gone live" post and we've come nowhere. I blame this on myself, because how can I blame it on the other writers (yes, there are other writers or non-writers really) if I myself do nothing what-so-ever. On that note, I will try and keep this place a bit more up to date. Even if I have to resort to lolcats (god help us).

Ok, I promise, I will not resort to lolcats.

Welcome to the next big thing to hit the internet since Absinthe. I think the about page sums up what this page is about the best in this line: "We are a collective of writers that just want to write for the sake of writing. Sharing our twisted views with the world and hoping the world will enjoy them."

Maybe you'll find something of interest, so stick around.

I went to see a 2:10 showing of The Incredible Hulk today, and was a very well-done movie that kicked the unholy snot out of Ang Lee's ill-fated 2003 attempt at bringing Big Green to the big screen.

I arrive at the campsite; this is going to be some happening. I can feel the Rasta man vibration in the air. Setting up the tents was hell, to many cars, to close to my tent poles. I’m glad that’s over with, and I’m gladder that nobody saw me scraping that car.
My photographer and I are rolling our first joint, somewhere far from our encampment. “This is it man, total relaxation, this is the feeling you’re looking for, fuck it, throw your notepad away, you’re done”. My photographer is an optimistic man, from time to time. He also is a very drunk man, his body can’t handle alcohol and he’s had plenty on the drive over.
“No man, fuck it, I’m going to the festival, this can’t be it” and that was that, we parted ways as I picked up our stoner, Chris, who was also a part of our trip.