Hear through walls, yelling at the television. I'll have to get up early again and make it happen. (Something sports. Probably basketball. Yelling to increases their chances of success.) Paper thin walls. I am adjacent but invisible. Have not yet jumped into the pool. I can't say what the big idea is. Unheated. Needing a refresher. Going to the top. I feel useless. Exhausted. Drained. my body and voice tired. I am hungry and have no where to go.
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Mental refreshments of tea and a quiet. Just in case someone is watching I dosed the lights. Nothing even flickers in the still air. Hands are sore from working. Torn up fingernails, skin picking and peeling away in painful fragments. Evidence of progression. Those courageous back-lash flesh wounds. When a spike is shoved beneath the nail. Drive it home to the source. There are flaming eyes and a deranged mind. I don't know if I feel captivated by the cheeky allure of a bedside book. The author knows he is clever and let's us know he knows. The confidence and cocky nature of his writing never undermines the content. Be humble and happy. If you create great things, be unaware. Too busy in a fury of further creation to become full of yourself. There is time for achievement but now is the time to create. Never let it get to your head. Write with your heart. Hands being the translating device between mindful thinking and execution. Always test yourself and push further. Into deeper talents. Never writing a boring story. Juxtapose your great ideas with actuality. Never let someone tell you what to do. (let me check my wardrobe) He's a nice guy but some days I think of him as the devil himself. The death of music and the reintroduction of glam. We need the raw talent before we put make up on.
"cry in sudden disbelief"
Jazz guitar influence? Let's see it.
Bury those outside opinions. It's great music. that strange feeling of being swept away by a tide is not bad just foreign. unbelievable that suddenly there is an image to maintain. warm me up to it. looking good is not as important as playing good. (out here it is, someone will say.) I will respond, let's move the fucking band then. Some strange arrangement. Venues are bars out here. Shit job to keep it happening. No romantic relationships. Whoops. Maybe something special will happen that allows me to stay through the year.
