Gravy Boat Operator.
Today was a little angsty. I had a lot of wine on christmas evening. Boxing day was a no-show. Today was just grumbled. Angsty and grumbled.
I took some time after work and journaled myself through it. At work too, sans journal.
I can get anxious. I can get stressed out. It's strange, but true. Perhaps more strange to me than to you.
The same bullox. If i'm in control of my life then dissatisfaction is my fault. Why did i have to drink until i was happy? Yes it worked, but the repercussions were easy to feel. Shouldn't i have been happy before drinking myself thin?
Today's conclusions were fine. I like where i'm aiming. Anxiety doesn't hurt the art. Keep the faith. Remember how easy today is. Today is just fine. I like where i'm aiming.
Peace to you.
Peace to you.
and
peace to you.
simon
Nathan Gill writes story songs. I like them. He's got characters, and things happen to and through them.
I write songs about me. My point of view. I try to put it out. I tend to write angsty music, and i think that leads me to troubled words. I've got a lot of happy thoughts, but i think they're best summarized by silence.
My angsty thoughts are lately about whether i'm doing the right thing. I wonder if i'm on the right path. It's impossible to prove that i am. So, although optimistic, i'm holding onto what appears to be an unresolvable issue.
Today i got a message from somebody which was very kind. Talked about having faith in me, thinking that i'm quite a fellow. A recent lyric comes to mind, "potential is but a chance for shame."
I'm so glad i have potential. I'm glad that i have gone through a lot of introspection. I'm glad i have what appears to be a reasonable sense of what is meant by "good".
I was having a bit of a trouble a number of weeks ago. Jamie Crawford, Bonnie MacKinnon and I were having a smoke on the deck. I don't remember the conversation, so i'll make it up. Jamie asks how i'm doing, and i answer that i don't know. Jamie then told a little tale of a time that he was talking to David Fleming and said something to him about me. Maybe how i seemed like a good kid. Dave told jamie that i was the most tortured person he knew.
When i heard that story, it gave me a little concern about dave. If there's anything i think about him, it's that he's another me. Different haircut, different shoe size, but the same beef and gravy. Dave wouldn't say that i was tortured unless it was a part of hisself that he saw in me.
Peace and Love, Dave. Believe in the cause. I tell you that because i want myself to believe. There's a good chance i'm listening to what i say. Some of your last posts make me think about you. I'm not worried about you. Realizing that makes me worry less about myself. Lately i've been aiming to see myself in everyone. Seeing myself in you has never been an effort.
Weird though, how during our journey west there were some silly spots. Maybe they only exist in my imagination, but i guess if you spend enough time with someone the differences are what pop up. Mostly recalling playing Gin Rummy in Montreal. Card rage. Needing to go for a walk.
Good times with fatty though. That was a seriously good two week basement stint. Smokes and wine. Rairly left the basement. Stayed out of mind.
Sometimes i forget that the world is still out there. I want to believe that in my less adventurous times i'm busy preparing for it. Maybe it's getting ready for me. Same thing?
Blogging is such a silly past time. I'm listening to wilco.
exes and ohs.
simon
xo. peacelove.
hate mail.
Never tell people your ideas. They'll die. Ideas can't exist in this material world.
That's pessimistic. What i meant to say was that if i tell you an idea about a painting i might like to do, then i'll probably be sharing the idea in hopes that the idea will suffice in place of a painting which i've accepted will never exist. If i give birth to the idea, the reality will be unlikely to fit the mold. Best to keep the idea to myself.
"Y'know, i was thinking about you the other day. Almost gave you a call."
Seems like a nice thing to say. The thought was nice. But once it's said, the only thought in the hearers mind is "why no call" and answers can only lead down ugly roads.
Kind words are the lowest on the kindness ladder. The problem with words is that they're not reality. They point to places in our minds that we wrongly believe other people can go.
"I like you."
I've put kind thoughts on a higher rung. Using words to express a kind thought is lowering it, as far as i'm concerned. I'd rather eye contact with kind thoughts in mind than words. Too often, words fail through assuming what the audience wants to hear. Thoughts left alone, kind thoughts, are beautiful. They flourish. Make your mind pretty.
I don't need to remind you that i'm writing unreadable bullshit blabber. I need to remind myself. I digress...
Top rung of the ladder is kind actions. Just do it. Nike.
Did i ever have peace of mind? I think i was probably more at peace when i blamed the world for my unhappiness. Now i've got less unhappiness, but i think it's all my fault. heh. It's right, i suppose.
chasing blue,
simon
Red E.
Weigh teen.
Pay she end Lee.
4
Doubt ooh do it.
do it all.
I`ve been taking good care of myself. I feel pretty fine. I`ve been accepting that i`m allowed to have wants. I can embrace them as i`d embrace any thoughts. I will not let wants create problems in my ability to enjoy reality. Wants are part of my reality. Everything is part of it, and it is to be enjoyed and looked forward to.
Sometimes i feel like i am talking myself into sanity. Into happiness. I hope the ropes can hold. They really aughta. I don`t feel a crisis coming on.
The best religion is to be a good person.
I`ve done it to myself. Twisted. Righteous. Hot and bothered. Hearing truth in the apple.
I sort of miss drugs. They center me. Sort of. I get a bit of a vantage point. Maybe i`m just struggling with boredom. It`s not an easy horse to tame. But should the boredom horse be tamed, hoo boy, an exciting ride`ll be on my hands. Maybe it`s the cold weather. Maybe i`m underslept and overworked. I`m looking forward to christmas because i have two days off in a row. That`s a little sad.
But i`m not. I`m almost sure of it. I`m getting a better grip on my mind, as i continue to release my body.
I was asked to be a bassist for a local singer songwriter. Andrea MacDonald. I`m looking forward to it. Experiences!
Peace, guys. Stay cool, and posi, and gold, horsechild.
simon
For christ's sake, people. Don't tell other people what to do. It doesn't work out that way.
There's an exception to every rule. Except for the rule about rules always having exceptions. This rule has just become an exception of itself, and then falls back into the truth of the rule. Awesome.
The exception to the 'dont tell people what to do' rule is kind of stupid. Often times we speak correct. Often times we're not wrong to tell people what to do. I don't know how to write up the exception. I just don't think we'd be doing correct simply by never telling people what to do. We all know how to live right.
Heh, come to think of it, saying "dont tell other people what to do" is oxymoronic or self contradicting or something. heh. Jerkstore population.
Anyway, here's what i think happens. I'm gonna do my best with me, the only thing i appear to be responsible for. Teach by example. My words ain't gonna help you. Neither are my riffs. But the way i live, hot damn, you're gonna see how good tao is. It's easy, and it's perfect.
And i love you.
I also imagine that thoughts of pity and shame for our past will be long gone. We'll be free, of course, to think thoughts which are beneficial to us.
We've got a tree. It's green. There's a yellow ribbon on it, and it's shedding. Holidays are upon us. Soon it will be covered in all sorts of pleasantries. Ho ho ho.
Time for me to buy things for people i love.
simon
I watched factory girl last night. It made me sad. Made me think about what effect i have on people. Made me think about regrets. I attempted to take a chunk out of miss o'hare once on the subject of regrets. I don't believe that they should exist. I once attempted to write an essay with the hypothesis that there can be no regrets because the only thing worth anything is potential, and potential is not diminished by it's past lack of fruition.
I believe the essay found itself off track, consider the hypothesis unproven.
Hey hey, nothing better to do.
I think the gapingest (most gaping) hole is that the only thing worth anything is potential. This has kind of an uncle scrooge approach to a life well lived, even though he was a jerk his whole life, changing things around on a grey haired christmas a decade or so before expiry made his life perfectly well lived. Nothing lost, would be the hope.
But if he was nice the whole time, wouldn't things have been better? I don't know. I would think that every kind act has positive repercussions.
I want to imply something concerning afterlife, like maybe scrooge is properly fit to go to a heaven of sorts. Not wearing all those shackels. Maybe he is more fit for afterlife, whatever it may be, because he's trusting of his world, and can no longer deny the worth of it.
A coworker named Hannah told me that she only has two lives left. She's an old soul, as she put it, and is almost ready to leave. My problem with this idea is that i'd like to think that any life could be the last life lived as long as you learn the lessons that are eternally available to anyone.
I'm suggesting that life is available for us as a constant lesson, and given a lifetime, perhaps even a moment of clarity, it is posible to reach the way that life aught to be lived, and come funeral, you'll be headed to the next rung on the ladder.
If i knew for sure that i had two more lives to lead, then where shall i put my effort? If I'm destined for another lousy rebirth, than there is no opportunity for growth, beyond the growth that has been predestined.
I don't like that predestined stuff, but the counter argument gives me room for error. If i'm not necessarily doing everything i am supposed to be doing, then i'm probably doing something wrong.
Easy easy easy to think of mistakes. One or two, anyway.
What i don't like is that if i acknowledge a mistake, than that must mean i'm worse off now. It must mean that i could be living better. I hate that.
This idea on potential is my savior. If i've still got this perfect potential than nothing is lost. I'll just search my false memory (imagination) for what missed moments might have been. I'll find them. I'll live them in my head. Then i'll move on.
This whole bag of shat is nothing but mana anyway. Illusions. Like the color red in exchange for the taste of raspberries. The taste is substance. The color is surface. I am surface and i intend to resemble the surfaceless. I will disappear. And where i was you'll find yourself.
WHen i have a headache i feel that my body is fighting off the cancer.
simon
But what happens to a useless human? As far as i can tell, if a person is useful, he'll be kept around. If i'm a useful employee, i'll remain employed. It's possible for me to speak in a grander sense, that if i'm useful to God, then He'll take care of me.
A tree can take care of itself. In that sense, it's better for the tree to be not useful to anyone else. Otherwise a person will use the tree in a way that the tree didn't intend.
But a person, hmm.
I want to be useful. I think if i learn music and languages then i'll be used by my world, and i'll be taken care of. I wonder if this flies in the face of the tree example. Maybe the uses the world will have for me would be lousy. Like a session bassist for Kroeger, or jingle writer for Kraft. Those are exagerations, i suppose, but aren't any human intentions ill formed?
Ah well. Life'll do.
simon
String Theory (the band) is recording some songs on monday evening. I believe we're all looking forward to it. We've got a myspace page, with a few songs up. I think the listentoables will be better following this upcoming recording session. I'll let y'all know how she goes.
I got a language learning program and i'm starting on some spanish lessons. They're good so far. The sort of thing that will be uber benificial if i continue with them. I've labeled languages as one of my two things to do, so it shouldn't be too hard to find motivation. Music is the other thing, and it seems to be working out.
I like reading. I just started The History of God. It should be nice. A four thousand year story of the Jewish/Christian/Muslim God. Nice that there's people out there who'll do a bunch of research and writing so that we might read a condensed version of something, figure out a few things that we unknowingly came for, and move on.
Move on.
simon
Here's something wonderful: [Label that subjective before moving on] Neither of the riffs were written on bass. I've been doing alot of multiple instrument stuff lately. Playing stuff on piano, then learning it on bass. Playing a bit more piano, a bit more bass. Yesterday i wrote a guitar riff, then learned it on piano, then learned it on bass. The day before yesterday i wrote something on piano, saved it as a piano track on my piano's hard drive, played the riff back to myself while i wrote something in the right hand, used the right hand as the melody and played the riff on bass and started singing and writing words. Went back to the piano to write a connecter riff, back to bass for vox and transition style.
It's good, i'm pretty sure.
Yesterday i played piano until my left wrist hurt. It hurts now, typing. Unfortionate. A little tai chi helps though, gets the chi flowing through my body, carry out the waste materials, revamp the wrist into a better model.
Anyway.
AAAAaannyway.
Jets win.
Florida Keys.
Battleship.
Cottonstar.
Together tonight.
Mind's reach.
Rubble tack
supper jack
pillow talk
grower's luck.
simple lick
limper's trick
tumble tort
awful sort
law report
cancer
boy toy suinside.
wet dog smell.
back teeth showing.
newspaper funnies.
short end of the stick.
Young and the rested.
lungs end
note bend
song fitch. Which itch stitched in?
Stiched in itch still itches.
Ichy stitches tick tock ticks sticks out like a bridge.
still itches.
wreched.
youliar.
salmon
"There's only one true judge and that's God. So chill, and let my father do his job." - S&P
I really thought i had something to bring to the table. But here we are, sitting around an empty table.
simon
Today was a little angsty. I had a lot of wine on christmas evening. Boxing day was a no-show. Today was just grumbled. Angsty and grumbled.
I took some time after work and journaled myself through it. At work too, sans journal.
I can get anxious. I can get stressed out. It's strange, but true. Perhaps more strange to me than to you.
The same bullox. If i'm in control of my life then dissatisfaction is my fault. Why did i have to drink until i was happy? Yes it worked, but the repercussions were easy to feel. Shouldn't i have been happy before drinking myself thin?
Today's conclusions were fine. I like where i'm aiming. Anxiety doesn't hurt the art. Keep the faith. Remember how easy today is. Today is just fine. I like where i'm aiming.
Peace to you.
Peace to you.
and
peace to you.
simon
This blog is an exercise in thought translation. Thoughts don't exist in words, you know. "What are you thinking?" is a difficult question to answer. Silence is seldom accepted.
Nathan Gill writes story songs. I like them. He's got characters, and things happen to and through them.
I write songs about me. My point of view. I try to put it out. I tend to write angsty music, and i think that leads me to troubled words. I've got a lot of happy thoughts, but i think they're best summarized by silence.
My angsty thoughts are lately about whether i'm doing the right thing. I wonder if i'm on the right path. It's impossible to prove that i am. So, although optimistic, i'm holding onto what appears to be an unresolvable issue.
Today i got a message from somebody which was very kind. Talked about having faith in me, thinking that i'm quite a fellow. A recent lyric comes to mind, "potential is but a chance for shame."
I'm so glad i have potential. I'm glad that i have gone through a lot of introspection. I'm glad i have what appears to be a reasonable sense of what is meant by "good".
I was having a bit of a trouble a number of weeks ago. Jamie Crawford, Bonnie MacKinnon and I were having a smoke on the deck. I don't remember the conversation, so i'll make it up. Jamie asks how i'm doing, and i answer that i don't know. Jamie then told a little tale of a time that he was talking to David Fleming and said something to him about me. Maybe how i seemed like a good kid. Dave told jamie that i was the most tortured person he knew.
When i heard that story, it gave me a little concern about dave. If there's anything i think about him, it's that he's another me. Different haircut, different shoe size, but the same beef and gravy. Dave wouldn't say that i was tortured unless it was a part of hisself that he saw in me.
Peace and Love, Dave. Believe in the cause. I tell you that because i want myself to believe. There's a good chance i'm listening to what i say. Some of your last posts make me think about you. I'm not worried about you. Realizing that makes me worry less about myself. Lately i've been aiming to see myself in everyone. Seeing myself in you has never been an effort.
Weird though, how during our journey west there were some silly spots. Maybe they only exist in my imagination, but i guess if you spend enough time with someone the differences are what pop up. Mostly recalling playing Gin Rummy in Montreal. Card rage. Needing to go for a walk.
Good times with fatty though. That was a seriously good two week basement stint. Smokes and wine. Rairly left the basement. Stayed out of mind.
Sometimes i forget that the world is still out there. I want to believe that in my less adventurous times i'm busy preparing for it. Maybe it's getting ready for me. Same thing?
Blogging is such a silly past time. I'm listening to wilco.
exes and ohs.
simon
I'm only human, afterall.
xo. peacelove.
hate mail.
Never tell people your ideas. They'll die. Ideas can't exist in this material world.
That's pessimistic. What i meant to say was that if i tell you an idea about a painting i might like to do, then i'll probably be sharing the idea in hopes that the idea will suffice in place of a painting which i've accepted will never exist. If i give birth to the idea, the reality will be unlikely to fit the mold. Best to keep the idea to myself.
"Y'know, i was thinking about you the other day. Almost gave you a call."
Seems like a nice thing to say. The thought was nice. But once it's said, the only thought in the hearers mind is "why no call" and answers can only lead down ugly roads.
Kind words are the lowest on the kindness ladder. The problem with words is that they're not reality. They point to places in our minds that we wrongly believe other people can go.
"I like you."
I've put kind thoughts on a higher rung. Using words to express a kind thought is lowering it, as far as i'm concerned. I'd rather eye contact with kind thoughts in mind than words. Too often, words fail through assuming what the audience wants to hear. Thoughts left alone, kind thoughts, are beautiful. They flourish. Make your mind pretty.
I don't need to remind you that i'm writing unreadable bullshit blabber. I need to remind myself. I digress...
Top rung of the ladder is kind actions. Just do it. Nike.
Did i ever have peace of mind? I think i was probably more at peace when i blamed the world for my unhappiness. Now i've got less unhappiness, but i think it's all my fault. heh. It's right, i suppose.
chasing blue,
simon
Useful.
Red E.
Weigh teen.
Pay she end Lee.
4
Doubt ooh do it.
do it all.
I`ve been taking good care of myself. I feel pretty fine. I`ve been accepting that i`m allowed to have wants. I can embrace them as i`d embrace any thoughts. I will not let wants create problems in my ability to enjoy reality. Wants are part of my reality. Everything is part of it, and it is to be enjoyed and looked forward to.
Sometimes i feel like i am talking myself into sanity. Into happiness. I hope the ropes can hold. They really aughta. I don`t feel a crisis coming on.
The best religion is to be a good person.
I`ve done it to myself. Twisted. Righteous. Hot and bothered. Hearing truth in the apple.
I sort of miss drugs. They center me. Sort of. I get a bit of a vantage point. Maybe i`m just struggling with boredom. It`s not an easy horse to tame. But should the boredom horse be tamed, hoo boy, an exciting ride`ll be on my hands. Maybe it`s the cold weather. Maybe i`m underslept and overworked. I`m looking forward to christmas because i have two days off in a row. That`s a little sad.
But i`m not. I`m almost sure of it. I`m getting a better grip on my mind, as i continue to release my body.
I was asked to be a bassist for a local singer songwriter. Andrea MacDonald. I`m looking forward to it. Experiences!
Peace, guys. Stay cool, and posi, and gold, horsechild.
simon
I'm not directly responsible for my actions. I'm responsible for my state of mind. Today i worked myself into a good mood today. All i've got to do is trust. Trust in what. Faith in it. It's working out. Belief. Empty words pointing to power.
For christ's sake, people. Don't tell other people what to do. It doesn't work out that way.
There's an exception to every rule. Except for the rule about rules always having exceptions. This rule has just become an exception of itself, and then falls back into the truth of the rule. Awesome.
The exception to the 'dont tell people what to do' rule is kind of stupid. Often times we speak correct. Often times we're not wrong to tell people what to do. I don't know how to write up the exception. I just don't think we'd be doing correct simply by never telling people what to do. We all know how to live right.
Heh, come to think of it, saying "dont tell other people what to do" is oxymoronic or self contradicting or something. heh. Jerkstore population.
Anyway, here's what i think happens. I'm gonna do my best with me, the only thing i appear to be responsible for. Teach by example. My words ain't gonna help you. Neither are my riffs. But the way i live, hot damn, you're gonna see how good tao is. It's easy, and it's perfect.
And i love you.
I imagine that in the future people will get a kick out of drug commercials. A large chunk of the 30 second spot is set aside for fast-talk listing of the side effects. I imagine in this future natural fixes for the problems and not the symptoms will be commonplace. The idea that a supplement which fixes your runny nose but causes you diarrhea, nausea, and should be avoided by pregnant women, is something that you should "talk to your doctor about" is pretty funny now, but hoo boy, in the future we'll really be laughing.
I also imagine that thoughts of pity and shame for our past will be long gone. We'll be free, of course, to think thoughts which are beneficial to us.
We've got a tree. It's green. There's a yellow ribbon on it, and it's shedding. Holidays are upon us. Soon it will be covered in all sorts of pleasantries. Ho ho ho.
Time for me to buy things for people i love.
simon
Good evening, guys and dolls. Y'know what's not as bad as i think? When I believe i've got something to say, so i fire up ye old computer and start typing, and end up in some description of a situation in which you've forgotten having something of import to say. Important, adjective.
I watched factory girl last night. It made me sad. Made me think about what effect i have on people. Made me think about regrets. I attempted to take a chunk out of miss o'hare once on the subject of regrets. I don't believe that they should exist. I once attempted to write an essay with the hypothesis that there can be no regrets because the only thing worth anything is potential, and potential is not diminished by it's past lack of fruition.
I believe the essay found itself off track, consider the hypothesis unproven.
Hey hey, nothing better to do.
I think the gapingest (most gaping) hole is that the only thing worth anything is potential. This has kind of an uncle scrooge approach to a life well lived, even though he was a jerk his whole life, changing things around on a grey haired christmas a decade or so before expiry made his life perfectly well lived. Nothing lost, would be the hope.
But if he was nice the whole time, wouldn't things have been better? I don't know. I would think that every kind act has positive repercussions.
I want to imply something concerning afterlife, like maybe scrooge is properly fit to go to a heaven of sorts. Not wearing all those shackels. Maybe he is more fit for afterlife, whatever it may be, because he's trusting of his world, and can no longer deny the worth of it.
A coworker named Hannah told me that she only has two lives left. She's an old soul, as she put it, and is almost ready to leave. My problem with this idea is that i'd like to think that any life could be the last life lived as long as you learn the lessons that are eternally available to anyone.
I'm suggesting that life is available for us as a constant lesson, and given a lifetime, perhaps even a moment of clarity, it is posible to reach the way that life aught to be lived, and come funeral, you'll be headed to the next rung on the ladder.
If i knew for sure that i had two more lives to lead, then where shall i put my effort? If I'm destined for another lousy rebirth, than there is no opportunity for growth, beyond the growth that has been predestined.
I don't like that predestined stuff, but the counter argument gives me room for error. If i'm not necessarily doing everything i am supposed to be doing, then i'm probably doing something wrong.
Easy easy easy to think of mistakes. One or two, anyway.
What i don't like is that if i acknowledge a mistake, than that must mean i'm worse off now. It must mean that i could be living better. I hate that.
This idea on potential is my savior. If i've still got this perfect potential than nothing is lost. I'll just search my false memory (imagination) for what missed moments might have been. I'll find them. I'll live them in my head. Then i'll move on.
This whole bag of shat is nothing but mana anyway. Illusions. Like the color red in exchange for the taste of raspberries. The taste is substance. The color is surface. I am surface and i intend to resemble the surfaceless. I will disappear. And where i was you'll find yourself.
WHen i have a headache i feel that my body is fighting off the cancer.
simon
If a tree is useless, it will not be cut down. A little bit of taoist "wisdom" for you there. It makes sense, for the tree.
But what happens to a useless human? As far as i can tell, if a person is useful, he'll be kept around. If i'm a useful employee, i'll remain employed. It's possible for me to speak in a grander sense, that if i'm useful to God, then He'll take care of me.
A tree can take care of itself. In that sense, it's better for the tree to be not useful to anyone else. Otherwise a person will use the tree in a way that the tree didn't intend.
But a person, hmm.
I want to be useful. I think if i learn music and languages then i'll be used by my world, and i'll be taken care of. I wonder if this flies in the face of the tree example. Maybe the uses the world will have for me would be lousy. Like a session bassist for Kroeger, or jingle writer for Kraft. Those are exagerations, i suppose, but aren't any human intentions ill formed?
Ah well. Life'll do.
simon
I just properly linked dave's new blog. Philosophy rock.
String Theory (the band) is recording some songs on monday evening. I believe we're all looking forward to it. We've got a myspace page, with a few songs up. I think the listentoables will be better following this upcoming recording session. I'll let y'all know how she goes.
I got a language learning program and i'm starting on some spanish lessons. They're good so far. The sort of thing that will be uber benificial if i continue with them. I've labeled languages as one of my two things to do, so it shouldn't be too hard to find motivation. Music is the other thing, and it seems to be working out.
I like reading. I just started The History of God. It should be nice. A four thousand year story of the Jewish/Christian/Muslim God. Nice that there's people out there who'll do a bunch of research and writing so that we might read a condensed version of something, figure out a few things that we unknowingly came for, and move on.
Move on.
simon
I just came to a really neat realization. I am the cat. I am bonnie.
A few new bass riffs have passed through my viewspace. I've taken note of them. 10% inspiration has been accounted for, now the 90% persperation. I've got an empty belly, a pot of coffee, a box of red wine, and a tub of tobacco w/ tubes. I'm ready to be productive, starving artist style.
Here's something wonderful: [Label that subjective before moving on] Neither of the riffs were written on bass. I've been doing alot of multiple instrument stuff lately. Playing stuff on piano, then learning it on bass. Playing a bit more piano, a bit more bass. Yesterday i wrote a guitar riff, then learned it on piano, then learned it on bass. The day before yesterday i wrote something on piano, saved it as a piano track on my piano's hard drive, played the riff back to myself while i wrote something in the right hand, used the right hand as the melody and played the riff on bass and started singing and writing words. Went back to the piano to write a connecter riff, back to bass for vox and transition style.
It's good, i'm pretty sure.
Yesterday i played piano until my left wrist hurt. It hurts now, typing. Unfortionate. A little tai chi helps though, gets the chi flowing through my body, carry out the waste materials, revamp the wrist into a better model.
Anyway.
AAAAaannyway.
Jets win.
Florida Keys.
Battleship.
Cottonstar.
Together tonight.
Mind's reach.
Rubble tack
supper jack
pillow talk
grower's luck.
simple lick
limper's trick
tumble tort
awful sort
law report
cancer
boy toy suinside.
wet dog smell.
back teeth showing.
newspaper funnies.
short end of the stick.
Young and the rested.
lungs end
note bend
song fitch. Which itch stitched in?
Stiched in itch still itches.
Ichy stitches tick tock ticks sticks out like a bridge.
still itches.
wreched.
youliar.
salmon
Seeking goodness can bring about justice, i guess. But seeking justice will probably do no good.
"There's only one true judge and that's God. So chill, and let my father do his job." - S&P
I really thought i had something to bring to the table. But here we are, sitting around an empty table.
simon