the crap before the calm.

When I do find a way out of this mess of crap…I’d like a nicer view…not just a bloody window…not a window with just a half broken picture of an incomplete imagination…no I want the whole scenery pasted inside my head…but not entirely…I want to be able to touch it…and say stuff to it that isn’t typed…I swear when that happens I’ll burn this keyboard…keyboards are to make music with…not poetry…make strange sounds…not for conveying nothing.

What a complete waste…complete and total waste is what I am…never been prouder actually…but still…in the grander scheme of things…I’m an ungrateful loser.

Too bad…I’m also very arrogant…and even if you reduce me to nothing and chop me into pieces and make me feel sicker than sick…I’ll stick with my story…and never say that I didn’t enjoy it. I will never say the one thing that haunts me all the way to sleep.

Last night…I heard my friend laugh…it was a sort of cruel laughter…that chills your crap…and I tried to turn and look...to see where old molly was hiding…naturally…I was alone…and I figured…yeah…auditory hallucinations…ok…try to turn your head…but you can’t look where the sound is coming from…strange.

Saw pana’s body in a chair with his back to me…trembling/shaking at the speed of…well something very…frequent…fast…it was…unnerving…but…

There’s never anything good once you figure there’s never anything good…

Screwed up half steps…whole steps…paranoid.

Leave.....Don't Leave Me.

i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.i'm the slave you'll never free.

Real Elephants Die.

It’s a bit of badly recorded sad music. Isn’t that what rang through your head sitting in preschool when the skies turned grey and you wondered if they’d ever let you go home again…I mean it’s obviously too dark now…it must be almost night time…what are they playing at? But then it was just a summer storm…and nothing more. Isn’t this the sort of music that played? I am extremely angry right now…there’s something I’d say forgetting all my tedious little reservations…I’d break your neck…summer storms always pass by and you don’t remember much except a slight impression of something nice having been…around…but gone now…and how…
You can only write your life story once…and no matter how it’s written it’ll be the best attempt…
Bands that make more than one album…what do they sing about? There are loads of reasons to make music…but what is there to sing about?? Aren’t you done? Aren’t you satisfied?? Aren’t you ashamed??? Everyone thinks they know what you’re talking about…everything you do is now being critically and psychologically analyzed…getting it wrong is bad…getting it right is much worse. So you hide.
So then there’s only ever one collection, one…album…one diary, one masterpiece…after which you move on to the next bit of whatever that you think you can reinvent your story in…a new medium of expression.
I seriously doubt that George lynch would care to play the guitar again.
I think he’s done. Now I may be quite nuts and what not…but old George knew exactly what he was talking about. No wasting time…by being direct. George’s song for the athletic redhead.

At the moment I can’t even tell if I’m mutant or not.
This arm seems to be moving alright.
The music seems less appealing than it did before.
I can feel crap trying to flow out…and an itching face.
I think I’m a bit done.
Yesterday is not a day I remember…or would like to…
I distantly…hazily recall making a bit of music and recording it and babbling in it like an idiot. I sent it to a boy who told me it was stupid. Naturally, I agreed. It was a very stupid thing to do. However…it was a bit enjoyable...more or less…it wasn’t mine…but I made it.
I was thinking about why I had made this bit of nonsense and I decided that it’s a song by George lynch for the athletic redhead. Ha. It makes sense now to me and pretty much nobody else…but so what?
So if the guy from my stories… (The very lame stories…I know…but it’s rarely the stories that I like…it’s the characters…) ever had the urge to sing for the athletic red head…this is what he would sing. Because then it would make sense.
The athletic redhead…I should’ve named it that…but the current name is pretty apt…I always like songs with just one line…why bother trying to come up with pointless bullshit when this is just exactly what you want to say?? i've never slurred so much in a song...hahaha...timing is a bit out too...obviously...but it's always out...blahooey...i'm done.