I remember "Motown Monday Nights" on Big D 103 FM back in CT. I have no idea, in retrospect, what Big D was in reference to, but I always enjoyed the little jingle that went along with its call sign since I am, Big D.
But then another thought struck me today. Motown is perfect doing stuff music. After having accidentally found on the waves some motown while baking cookies, I thought this would be good brewing music. Haphazaardly tossing ingredients. Having a good time. Having a good beer.
3.30.2009
3.28.2009
Compliling
I must compile a list of fictional characters who are "English" majors, as in received a degree in English. Myself fitting this category, possibly even the fictional aspect of it, I feel intrigued and insulted. These characters are consistently despondent, less than ideal males. An everyman in one sense, but also capable of impressive feats when 'er pressed.
The list is forthcoming.
The list is forthcoming.
On The State of Skeleton-hands and Being Ginger
This is a reminder of a post to come on the titular issues.
*Amended March 28, 2009 at 2:47 post meridian.
So I wanted to add something here about the fact that I may be self-conscious of my hands. Skeleton, creepy hands I think. But maybe not. I was just shown a picture Hasheem Thabeet; those are enormous hands.
And on the state of gingerness, a word I think is idiotic. What more can I say. Summers here have no fear, I shall reflect the suns rays, global warming has gone away.
*Amended March 28, 2009 at 2:47 post meridian.
So I wanted to add something here about the fact that I may be self-conscious of my hands. Skeleton, creepy hands I think. But maybe not. I was just shown a picture Hasheem Thabeet; those are enormous hands.
And on the state of gingerness, a word I think is idiotic. What more can I say. Summers here have no fear, I shall reflect the suns rays, global warming has gone away.
3.27.2009
Obvoiding the Status
Stating the Obvious, as it were, but I like the commercials for the Swiffer. In the most recent clip I saw on the tube, there was a demonstration of a typical straw broom and the aforementioned Swiffer. Swiff glides with grace and ease, a pivot now and then for acent, dust adheres to its disposable pad like a similie adheres to explaning something in a non-literal way. The broom mashes at the ground as if its user were a space gorrilla unfamiliar with Earth's gravity, or most common household item.
Our country's awesome Swiff,
With haste we destroy thrift,
And buy, buy, buy.
When an old broom will do,
We need something new.
Where as you could vaccuum,
The Swiffer wins.
Our country's awesome Swiff,
With haste we destroy thrift,
And buy, buy, buy.
When an old broom will do,
We need something new.
Where as you could vaccuum,
The Swiffer wins.
Beauty
Something that nobody talks about, especially in literature or in poetry is beauty.
So, I wanted to share my idea of beauty.
Beauty is the way my elbows get rougher and rougher.
I was touching my elbows just last week and I hadn't noticed,
My elbows are rough,
They could polish diamonds.
Like how Edward Abbey writes of all the non-normative aspects of beauty in nature.
Somethings are dead, rotting, gross.
Somethings are elbows.
So, I wanted to share my idea of beauty.
Beauty is the way my elbows get rougher and rougher.
I was touching my elbows just last week and I hadn't noticed,
My elbows are rough,
They could polish diamonds.
Like how Edward Abbey writes of all the non-normative aspects of beauty in nature.
Somethings are dead, rotting, gross.
Somethings are elbows.
3.26.2009
Candies that;
Candies that separate into flavor and gel.
Maybe they weren't Candies at all,
I can't read that language on the package.
Tasting the sensation which begs
"Finish the package in a sitting."
But I like to eat candy during a walk.
And it would be a challenge not to finish the candy.
Please create those next, ***********.
Maybe they weren't Candies at all,
I can't read that language on the package.
Tasting the sensation which begs
"Finish the package in a sitting."
But I like to eat candy during a walk.
And it would be a challenge not to finish the candy.
Please create those next, ***********.
More on Waffles
There is nothing about waffles that deserves the name waffles. Well, sure "waffle" probably describes the pattern of indentation on the surface of the cooked batter. Almost definitely the reason.
My waffles are shaped like a collection of hearts joined at the tip. Symbolically, but with out reason I tear each heart from its whole, then rent each heart in half. When I eat waffles I am reenacting a cliche of lovelorn despair, heartbreak, which I then devour. My stomach, filled with twelve torn hearts feels no different than if it were filled with twelve circular pancakes.
But the symbolism. Filling my gut with the symbol of love lost, what does that symbolize? Maybe nothing. Maybe this is how you destroy cliches, symbols, metaphors, similies, or anything that hints towards something bigger.
You eat it.
My waffles are shaped like a collection of hearts joined at the tip. Symbolically, but with out reason I tear each heart from its whole, then rent each heart in half. When I eat waffles I am reenacting a cliche of lovelorn despair, heartbreak, which I then devour. My stomach, filled with twelve torn hearts feels no different than if it were filled with twelve circular pancakes.
But the symbolism. Filling my gut with the symbol of love lost, what does that symbolize? Maybe nothing. Maybe this is how you destroy cliches, symbols, metaphors, similies, or anything that hints towards something bigger.
You eat it.
3.25.2009
Shifting Perspectives
Some days it's like someone put a soft filter on perception. Everything can be a little bland, replayed and uninteresting.
And then there are days like this morning, where like a cat I sit in a sunny window and unlike a cat eat waffles and drink coffee.
My carpet bought years ago at Goodwill looks incredibly detailed, as if someone turned up the resolution on life. The carpet was mysterious wet when I purchased it from Mediocre Intentions as a friend who was once employed there called it. Could it be urine, or water? For five dollars these are not reasonable questions. Five dollars for long orange shag, something that could have worked as my basketball nickname in the late 70's.
Drinking coffee tasted better today. Homemade Americano. Yesterday, maybe I burned it slightly, the coffee tasted like coffee tasted when I was a kid, bad.
I inherited the Danish Waffle maker of my youth when we moved. It makes the thinner, more delicate waffles, that I prefer. My first year of college I was given a found copy of the cookbook of my youth, from which I get my waffle recipe.
And so I think of place, as I consider several points in my life. Where do I belong? Or more aptly, where would I like to make my home, at least for a while?
And then there are days like this morning, where like a cat I sit in a sunny window and unlike a cat eat waffles and drink coffee.
My carpet bought years ago at Goodwill looks incredibly detailed, as if someone turned up the resolution on life. The carpet was mysterious wet when I purchased it from Mediocre Intentions as a friend who was once employed there called it. Could it be urine, or water? For five dollars these are not reasonable questions. Five dollars for long orange shag, something that could have worked as my basketball nickname in the late 70's.
Drinking coffee tasted better today. Homemade Americano. Yesterday, maybe I burned it slightly, the coffee tasted like coffee tasted when I was a kid, bad.
I inherited the Danish Waffle maker of my youth when we moved. It makes the thinner, more delicate waffles, that I prefer. My first year of college I was given a found copy of the cookbook of my youth, from which I get my waffle recipe.
And so I think of place, as I consider several points in my life. Where do I belong? Or more aptly, where would I like to make my home, at least for a while?
3.23.2009
3.22.2009
No Metaphor
Finding a light switch
Is as easy as
Hanging your coat
Before shooting
Some Hoops
But First
You have too shoot
Some Hoops
Until it's dark
Then take your coat
Realizing only then
That the light switch
On which the coat
Was hung
Turns on the lights
For the court.
Is as easy as
Hanging your coat
Before shooting
Some Hoops
But First
You have too shoot
Some Hoops
Until it's dark
Then take your coat
Realizing only then
That the light switch
On which the coat
Was hung
Turns on the lights
For the court.
3.21.2009
Process Typing
When I get back from the grocery store I like to take each item out of the bag and display them on the table. Today I marveled at how the context of each item had changed; While I first encountered the apples, the yogurt, the rice, on the store shelf it now found itself displayed haphazardly on my kitchen table. I thought about how over the next week or so that food would be part of me, at least for a time.
3.19.2009
The Sounds
Toast makes a sound right after it emerges from the toaster toasted. It sounds like crackling or boiling. You have to put your ear right next to it.
3.18.2009
Having
I had a bug in my eye for two hours today. I thought it might have come out on its own, but I didn't really think that.
The internet doesn't know of contractions.
Dreaming vividly about things haven't happened, or things I saw on TV at some point and eating corned beef with cabbage.
Oh, it might not be the best idea.
The internet doesn't know of contractions.
Dreaming vividly about things haven't happened, or things I saw on TV at some point and eating corned beef with cabbage.
Oh, it might not be the best idea.
3.17.2009
You Never Listen
I never listened to the Velvet Underground
Until I was older
And never listened to the Velvet Underground.
But as the title suggested
There was a directed
Sort of Anger behind this,
Which there wasn't
But you probably
Still believe
There is.
Until I was older
And never listened to the Velvet Underground.
But as the title suggested
There was a directed
Sort of Anger behind this,
Which there wasn't
But you probably
Still believe
There is.
Standing Weird
Sometimes in a photograph you're standing weird,
which is a hard word to spell right.
Right?
Your feet are on rails that exist in your head,
and they are parallel,
not duck-footed,
slightly.
Like everyone else.
Sometimes that photograph is a sudden realization,
which is sort of like becoming the Star-child.
Remember?
Arthur C. Clark, I'm not sure if I do, but
in the film something happens;
superimposition
of a baby and,
a moon.
A sun.
which is a hard word to spell right.
Right?
Your feet are on rails that exist in your head,
and they are parallel,
not duck-footed,
slightly.
Like everyone else.
Sometimes that photograph is a sudden realization,
which is sort of like becoming the Star-child.
Remember?
Arthur C. Clark, I'm not sure if I do, but
in the film something happens;
superimposition
of a baby and,
a moon.
A sun.
That Feeling You Get
You know when you get butterflies in your stomach. I love that feeling. I think of them as moths, white moths illuminated by a street light that for a short time becomes visible through my stomach, like holding a paper-bag up to a lamp.
That feeling you get when you stretch your shoulders by lifting your arms above your head and flexing all the muscles.
That feeling from in front of a sunny window, when finally poetry starts to interest you, to read.
That feeling you get when you stretch your shoulders by lifting your arms above your head and flexing all the muscles.
That feeling from in front of a sunny window, when finally poetry starts to interest you, to read.
3.16.2009
Disgust at Literary Device
Pimple Nipple.
Does not this inverted sentence and slant rhyme thought up, disgust you, by me.
Do not forget about the inappropriate comma splice.
Would contractions have ingratiated themselves with you?
Them shelves themselves and the self.
Does not this inverted sentence and slant rhyme thought up, disgust you, by me.
Do not forget about the inappropriate comma splice.
Would contractions have ingratiated themselves with you?
Them shelves themselves and the self.
3.12.2009
Anecdotally Gross
I knew a guy who said he had jock itch, crotch-rot so bad there was only one way of describing it, "Corn-husks."
Ideal
The ideal way to do it, is
To have every radio playing the same station on low volume.
From room to room,
there is only a brief fade in
and out.
Never missing a bit,
An omnipresence.
Like reverse John Cage,
Not Cognitive Dissonance,
which doesn't apply to this.
Push a Piano out a window and hear a symphony all at once.
To have every radio playing the same station on low volume.
From room to room,
there is only a brief fade in
and out.
Never missing a bit,
An omnipresence.
Like reverse John Cage,
Not Cognitive Dissonance,
which doesn't apply to this.
Push a Piano out a window and hear a symphony all at once.
3.11.2009
Shorthand Thought Blot
I rmmbrd dream; was = to going back to schl.
Dndt want to b there. Old then, not young.
So I left; pushed will to full extent.
They agreed.
Not to overanlyz.
Dndt want to b there. Old then, not young.
So I left; pushed will to full extent.
They agreed.
Not to overanlyz.
3.10.2009
Unnecessary Confessional
Proclaiming my nerdishness, may seen totally unnecessary but here to follow is a list.
I have built 2 RC Cars, and for a time subscribed to RC Car action.
One of my favorite films is Akira.
I several different series of Graphic novels, in which there are no superheroes.
My degree is in English, and I do enjoy Drama By Early Modern Women.
I am a new media sponge.
Mythology rules!
As a child I read the classic Sci-Fi writers like H.G. Wells, Jules Verne.
Later on I read Orwell, Dick, Tolkien, Gibson, Clarke, Sagan.
I play the Tuba, Banjo, and Accordion.
I have built 2 RC Cars, and for a time subscribed to RC Car action.
One of my favorite films is Akira.
I several different series of Graphic novels, in which there are no superheroes.
My degree is in English, and I do enjoy Drama By Early Modern Women.
I am a new media sponge.
Mythology rules!
As a child I read the classic Sci-Fi writers like H.G. Wells, Jules Verne.
Later on I read Orwell, Dick, Tolkien, Gibson, Clarke, Sagan.
I play the Tuba, Banjo, and Accordion.
The Lapsed Astronomer
A hybrid,
the lapsed Astronomer
lacking the intensity
of specifics
to really go deep
in the the cosmos
and how to exactly
work a telescope.
the lapsed Astronomer
lacking the intensity
of specifics
to really go deep
in the the cosmos
and how to exactly
work a telescope.
3.09.2009
3.08.2009
Power!
To me, Power is
A male voice echoing
off the theater walls
while gunshots echo off
the theater walls
and cars echo off
each other.
To me, Dainty is
my hands when I am
feeling self-conscious
about my hands
and I remind
myself that these
are artist's hands
mirror images of
each other
echoing off the theater walls
while cars echo off gunshots
and together
a male voice is power.
A male voice echoing
off the theater walls
while gunshots echo off
the theater walls
and cars echo off
each other.
To me, Dainty is
my hands when I am
feeling self-conscious
about my hands
and I remind
myself that these
are artist's hands
mirror images of
each other
echoing off the theater walls
while cars echo off gunshots
and together
a male voice is power.
I Love
There were two things I wanted to admit I love. I forgot what one of them was, but I remember that the second was Orange Crush.
Thing is, I really don't like Orange Crush that much.
Gah! Forgetting is so overrated. Over ratted.
Thing is, I really don't like Orange Crush that much.
Gah! Forgetting is so overrated. Over ratted.
Admire the Rift
Beginning with a grandiose notion I assert that cultural assault has begun on my generation. Which is wholly unfair. Being part of a difficult to describe generation, I latch on to the term "Sampling," a fair way to describe a group which borrows at will from all that has come before it. In this way we choose to define ourselves by the lifestyle we adopt. More like a patchwork though, than a replication of past generations, we strive to find something worth admiring in each age group which has come and gone.
But then I awake this morning, with some prior knowledge, of the assault to come on our culture. Youth culture, that is. Anthony Lane responds to Watchmen (2009) with aggressive misunderstanding, and attacks the very genre that many in this modern world have come to love. Granted, Watchmen was not a perfect film, could have in no way matched the Novel itself, and fell flat at parts. Central to Lane's argument against the film is his lack of familiarity with the novel. He misinterprets the film and fails to grasp, that it exists as commentary not on the nuclear world, but as a conversation on the clash of generations as pre-nuclear and post-nuclear.
Lane writes, "There is Dan (Patrick Wilson), better known as Nite Owl, who keeps his old superhero outfit, rubbery and sharp-eared, locked away in his basement, presumably for fear of being sued for plagiarism by Bruce Wayne." But here what Lane fails to understand is that the similarity to Batman is intentional. Nite Owl's function is that of direct correlary to Batman. In fact all the characters in Watchmen are correllative to the characters of the major Comic producers. The fact that Lane is only able to identify one singular example of this familiarty with comic book lore demonstrates his inability to intelligently dialogue about the film. Here he fails doubly, since his knowledge of the source material is all but missing he could rely on his skills as a film critic to disect the elements of the film itself, like camera work, or performances. Yet, he does little to this effect.
Robert Sullivan writes an article for the New York Times which decries that way in which bicyclists ride in New York City. His primary means for this assertion is that he remembers a time when it was different. To me this screams of generation comparison, in which Sullivan insists that when he was younger, his generation had manners. While I doubt that this is even true, I still see Sullivan struggling with the obvious differences between himself and this younger flock of cyclists, with differnt values, different behaviors. His judgment is, Rude and Dangerous.
But here is the issue in my mind, as my generation comes of age it loses it grip and creative control on the things we enjoy. The same is true with Sullivan and Lane, who struggle to understand a new and different way of percieving the world. Not to argue that the way each successive generation behaves it better, but only to see that your own generation possess that same fault. It may be worse than the one before it. The place of writers like Lane and Sullivan should not be to attack and criticize that which they don't understand, but instead to profess the values they think will aid society the most.
But then I awake this morning, with some prior knowledge, of the assault to come on our culture. Youth culture, that is. Anthony Lane responds to Watchmen (2009) with aggressive misunderstanding, and attacks the very genre that many in this modern world have come to love. Granted, Watchmen was not a perfect film, could have in no way matched the Novel itself, and fell flat at parts. Central to Lane's argument against the film is his lack of familiarity with the novel. He misinterprets the film and fails to grasp, that it exists as commentary not on the nuclear world, but as a conversation on the clash of generations as pre-nuclear and post-nuclear.
Lane writes, "There is Dan (Patrick Wilson), better known as Nite Owl, who keeps his old superhero outfit, rubbery and sharp-eared, locked away in his basement, presumably for fear of being sued for plagiarism by Bruce Wayne." But here what Lane fails to understand is that the similarity to Batman is intentional. Nite Owl's function is that of direct correlary to Batman. In fact all the characters in Watchmen are correllative to the characters of the major Comic producers. The fact that Lane is only able to identify one singular example of this familiarty with comic book lore demonstrates his inability to intelligently dialogue about the film. Here he fails doubly, since his knowledge of the source material is all but missing he could rely on his skills as a film critic to disect the elements of the film itself, like camera work, or performances. Yet, he does little to this effect.
Robert Sullivan writes an article for the New York Times which decries that way in which bicyclists ride in New York City. His primary means for this assertion is that he remembers a time when it was different. To me this screams of generation comparison, in which Sullivan insists that when he was younger, his generation had manners. While I doubt that this is even true, I still see Sullivan struggling with the obvious differences between himself and this younger flock of cyclists, with differnt values, different behaviors. His judgment is, Rude and Dangerous.
But here is the issue in my mind, as my generation comes of age it loses it grip and creative control on the things we enjoy. The same is true with Sullivan and Lane, who struggle to understand a new and different way of percieving the world. Not to argue that the way each successive generation behaves it better, but only to see that your own generation possess that same fault. It may be worse than the one before it. The place of writers like Lane and Sullivan should not be to attack and criticize that which they don't understand, but instead to profess the values they think will aid society the most.
3.07.2009
Themes, Pronounced Teams in British
I remember getting the lasers, vaguely. Sort of like the time I asked for Carrot Cake for my birthday, and got it. Then I asked for Carrot Cake again the next year, having forgotten about the previous year. Oh, and I know that Carrot Cake is a weird choice for a birthday party. I think my parents had the foresight to get a regular cake as well.
That same thing happened with the lasers. I believe I asked to get the lasers again after I had already gotten them in a previous year. Do I regret the lasers? No. Those lasers pretty much sum me up.
Let's do a fact check. The word "laser" has five letters in it. My first, middle, and last name all have five letters as well. Every letter contained in "laser" is found in my full name. The word "laser," like my name, is an acronym which stands for Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation. Yes, my name does stand for that as well. Really, no joke.
Here lies the truth.
3.06.2009
Returning To
Old habits die hard or sometimes like a Phoenix, they rise again. Which is why those dreams I've been having. That tendency to awaken most nights at 3 am, mind you fully rested, or at least it feels that way is like a return to childhood.
At a certain point near the onset of my pubescence I recall coming awake each night, and reading myself to sleep. Or at least into tiredness. It seems that returning to my more natural sleep rhythms has brought on this same cycle. The only difference now is, my desire to sleep is stronger. I can bull through that urge to awake, to come alive and read. Now I look at the clock and think, "No, I can't get up now, it's 3 a.m." So, I don't.
And perhaps this is where my love of reading stems, my passion for language. I wish there was some French phrase to describe mon amour pour la lange. La lange est jamais perdu.
At a certain point near the onset of my pubescence I recall coming awake each night, and reading myself to sleep. Or at least into tiredness. It seems that returning to my more natural sleep rhythms has brought on this same cycle. The only difference now is, my desire to sleep is stronger. I can bull through that urge to awake, to come alive and read. Now I look at the clock and think, "No, I can't get up now, it's 3 a.m." So, I don't.
And perhaps this is where my love of reading stems, my passion for language. I wish there was some French phrase to describe mon amour pour la lange. La lange est jamais perdu.
An Excess
Having an excess of dreams brought on by something.
Waking up each night around 3 am to some stimulus.
If I didn't sleep so heavy I could diagnose this issue.
As of now, I have no clue.
I have never dreamed as much as I have in the past month.
Waking up each night around 3 am to some stimulus.
If I didn't sleep so heavy I could diagnose this issue.
As of now, I have no clue.
I have never dreamed as much as I have in the past month.
3.05.2009
Half Hour of Power
Having just dominated while watching Jeopardy, I am always disappointed that Wheel of Fortune follows. But a thought struck me today, as I was sitting adjacent to the room in which the television sits, and waits, plotting, planning, becoming digital and fading into blackness forever.
Oh, excuse me. So that beginning to Wheel of Fortune was really my concern here. The shouting of the show's name at the onset of the program is a mystery. The wheel consists mostly of fortune, or money. In it also rests the fate of the players, their fortune.
Rarely does anyone win big on Wheel of Fortune, which is I suppose what makes the eventual big win more gratifying. I just don't have the wherewithal to weather that much Wheel.
Ah, answering always as an alliterative alternative, amazing. Agree?
Oh, excuse me. So that beginning to Wheel of Fortune was really my concern here. The shouting of the show's name at the onset of the program is a mystery. The wheel consists mostly of fortune, or money. In it also rests the fate of the players, their fortune.
Rarely does anyone win big on Wheel of Fortune, which is I suppose what makes the eventual big win more gratifying. I just don't have the wherewithal to weather that much Wheel.
Ah, answering always as an alliterative alternative, amazing. Agree?
3.04.2009
A Short List of Band Name Inventions
I have a habit of saying, "Hey, that's the name of my band" in response to any random phrase read, spoken, or thought.
As a result I will make a short list of band name inventions. Unfortunately, I was unhappy with the one that popped into my head at the beginning of this post, so I will now fail to provide a short list.
As a result I will make a short list of band name inventions. Unfortunately, I was unhappy with the one that popped into my head at the beginning of this post, so I will now fail to provide a short list.
The Reaffirmation of Absurd Notions
Finishing Song of Solomon, Toni Morrison, I would be the first to admit I have no formal understanding of the narrative. While my degree has prepared me for literary analysis, I still feel uncomfortable jumping to conclusions without some alternate source from which to begin.
However, I will share my thoughts toward one element of the conclusion, which I sure has deeper significance than I give it credit.
Interuptive Telephone Call...
But, here the point was really that I was intrigued by the "flying" of which Solomon is supposed to have done in returning to Africa, of which Milkman dreams and concludes the novel with, in a sense.
I feel that this sentiment, the innate understanding of flight and how it is achieved, may be commonly felt, "If you surrendered to the air, you could ride it" (Morrison, 337).
Not to put too much weight behind dreams and the like, I can share that I have long had the type of flight dreams in which the principal character of Song of Solomon recounts. He speaks of the flight in his dreams as effortless and relaxed. I can recall two distinct and recurring dreams of my own in which I can fly. In the earliest dream I float throughout my childhood home just inches above the ground at a brisk pace. My chest and stomach face the ground, my head looks forward, my arms are pulled back to my side. I am not concerned or upset, and there is an internal understanding on my part that what makes flying possible is something only children understand: that anything is possible. Of utmost importance to my dream is the assumption that children become adults they learn what makes this sort of flight impossible, and in so doing they lose the ability to fly.
The more recent flight dream is escaping me, as it is more recent and the recalling of dreams is always ephemeral.
However, I will share my thoughts toward one element of the conclusion, which I sure has deeper significance than I give it credit.
Interuptive Telephone Call...
But, here the point was really that I was intrigued by the "flying" of which Solomon is supposed to have done in returning to Africa, of which Milkman dreams and concludes the novel with, in a sense.
I feel that this sentiment, the innate understanding of flight and how it is achieved, may be commonly felt, "If you surrendered to the air, you could ride it" (Morrison, 337).
Not to put too much weight behind dreams and the like, I can share that I have long had the type of flight dreams in which the principal character of Song of Solomon recounts. He speaks of the flight in his dreams as effortless and relaxed. I can recall two distinct and recurring dreams of my own in which I can fly. In the earliest dream I float throughout my childhood home just inches above the ground at a brisk pace. My chest and stomach face the ground, my head looks forward, my arms are pulled back to my side. I am not concerned or upset, and there is an internal understanding on my part that what makes flying possible is something only children understand: that anything is possible. Of utmost importance to my dream is the assumption that children become adults they learn what makes this sort of flight impossible, and in so doing they lose the ability to fly.
The more recent flight dream is escaping me, as it is more recent and the recalling of dreams is always ephemeral.
3.03.2009
To Sweaters, with Hearts.
Oh the cold creeps in on those
Not wearing sweaters you think
The cold must creep in on those
Not wearing fashionable
Sweaters.
Not wearing sweaters you think
The cold must creep in on those
Not wearing fashionable
Sweaters.
Rock, Punk.
Getting back into punk rock. Henry Rollins, etc.
It's easy. It's free.
Fast 2 minute songs, if you're lucky.
Distillation of rock and roll.
Heart of frustration, anger.
Oh, woe.
It's easy. It's free.
Fast 2 minute songs, if you're lucky.
Distillation of rock and roll.
Heart of frustration, anger.
Oh, woe.
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