Feb 15

Tied some purple around my neck and a spotted suitcoat. We will be the best dressed and this is not a concern of me. Write a song about happy people. Sleep with eyes open, looking into the void of a screen. Words entering eyes. Rather than write. my body pleads for rest. a soft bed. plenty of handwriting to make up for the lackadaisical ethic. It has to be morning. That's the only time it worked for me. It is a good way to wake up the brain. Rather than complication the mind before it rests which such questions and inquiries.. is due to stimulant dreaming of a kind or another. The inspiration hits in late nights where sobriety is questionable. The dark rooms with spinning faces and in attempt to accurately portray this scenario. I want a snapshot of many things. This all collaborates and creates a climactic curve where my life begins. It's simple innocence into exposure. The case of a butterfly. Fat off of romantic sweets. He sits lazily half naked writing manic like there are reasonable thoughts at this hour after 18 hours of being awake since my head last graced pillow and then I was able to witness, with my ears, a classic case of debauchery coming through the ceiling, the bastards consummate their valentines crush. Otherwise I lived a happy day and received compliments and got shut down and tripped over my words and felt inferior and felt really funny and cool and felt like i have an anxiety disorder when i realized my intentions will never fully come through, when i realize how much of a hermit ive become im absolutely going to say yes to go jam on some music and generally kick it and be a pretentious music fuck now and then. I need to learn theory. Feels like ive eaten a turkey. Goodnight. But you're so far away and you couldn't possibly know that it was YOU I was referring to all along. You don't know what records I want to hear. Cool jazz for a cool dude in different kind of shades.