white night.

something like, "music says what even silence cannot"...where did i read or hear that? ...it hit my insides...

a case of you and speeding cars running around in my head, a mix of coffee and PTSD.

when are roots really roots, and when are they just excuses or the need for peace & quiet?

ambot.

in other news...the little home where i first grew production-related roots is faltering, and i'm so affected. i know this world, realistically speaking, is equal parts money and creativity...but it still sucks.

how do you keep yourself from going insane when you think of the ideal and the actual? i can just hear my QC mother saying between yosi puffs, "you take it day by day. and if that doesn't work, you take it task by task. you acknowledge fully how people have plotted your entire year on an excel sheet and you'll go insane."

and if you're still buang, clean your desk. turn brain off...just like tori with her chocolate cake recipes circa Silent All These Years.

what's so amazing about really deep thoughts
boy you best pray that i bleed real soon
how's that thought for you