(We were born to fuck shit up, we drink our juice from broken cups.)
The records of my life have been spotty, technicolor and full of holes lately. My head is bouncing here and there and everywhere in between. I drive back and forth across the country and try so hard to find a place to call my home but the wanderer in me is having trouble taking off his shoes. I don't know where the best place to stop and rest my head is - here or the final destination? How many more times will I have to put all my things in boxes and leave in the next six months? Will I ever find a reasonable legal way of making an income? Where did all these pieces of my soul come from? Where did the shreds I'm used to pushing around go? Who what where when why how? So many questions and so little time with so much intense laser lightshow changing scenery flashing before my eyes and disappearing behind me under these tired feet. And one moment I'm dying and the next I'm 800 miles away and my good friend is dying and the next these other good friends are carrying my jello brain away in this tiny Cabrio and now we're all confused and trying to sort the reality out. Oh me, oh my.
