ssdgsdgasdgadsgdas
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Blog Archive
-
▼
2008
(104)
-
▼
March
(14)
- waste of paint.
- I started sending you a note
- stardust
- No surprise
- The Only Moment We Were Alone
- crop circles in the carpet
- blacktop calling your name
- i am afraid there's a hole in my brain
- too much
- sometimes when i am sittingalonein the darkreading...
- a can of worms
- carry me home.
- I can't believe
- while my mother waters plants, my father loads his...
-
▼
March
(14)
1 comment:
I don't really know what I meant by that, actually. Just something I've been pondering, the different versions of people. Kinda like how the color red looks different next to yellow and how it looks altogether different next to gray. Yet you can still recognize it as red...
But, er, I digress.
I dunno. The past few months have kinda felt like a maddening clamor towards inspiration, and by extension, towards some sort of meaning for the future.
Like...I'm writing these songs. And I have a four-track machine, a large array of instruments, (soon) a working microphone. Everything is in place. But nothing I'm writing is satisfying me. Or I'm not writing at all. And I can't help but think it's due to the lack of anyone to write about or write to. So I keep trying to grasp onto the meaningless and flimsy feelings I 'could' possibly develop for certain people. But nothings really coming to fruition for longer than a couple days.
This was a pretty long way to say, "I'm feeling uninspired", but whatever.
Post a Comment