*duchge*
life is so full of good and bad things right now it RULES. fucking balanced. last night i didn't get home from practice untill 11pm. i fucking loved what we did, running through everything, getting a feel for the venue and shit. god i've missed being on stage. i really fucking have. i'm glad my wrists are gaining stregnth and my fire shit is getting back on because i need to perform. badly. it's a drug and i'm so far into withdrawl that the last hit is just a residue on my veins.
the coffee below my apartment is fucking *awesome*. the man makes an *excellent* drip and brews his own cream for it which is cool too. all i need to do is get some sugar in the raw and i'm *perfect* with walking outside and getting shit. I haven't had it this good since i lived down near I-5 and planetary expresso ruled my morning.
the book i'm reading is killer L.A.Banks writes a exquisistely sensual book with excellent plot structures. The execution is a bit bland in the acutal *story-line*, relying more on the lascivious aspect to carry it than actual zesty action, but then, that's about what i read right now. I still h8 that the next merdith gentry novel comes out in december. this'd be tourture if there weren't a few more of banks novels to wrap myself with until the snowboarding season starts
the new metal is forging. a dash of vampric-goth, a dnb baseline, a leaked amon amarth album and some oldskool 80's gore metal merge. disorganization still regins supreme and paper worlds are again more real than physical ones. plans abound. distractions suffocate. i need to remake those callenders. i need a few hours in a coffeshoppe to brainstorm a path with this tested core.
standing tall for those things that i've grapsed regardless of those who responded to it has allowed me to get a grip. there's a subtle approval on that. there's a time of testing that has finally passed and a sense of honor in my actions there now. that's some twisted fucked up shit to watch that combine. regardless, it appears to be a bit smoother now.
also, i've regained my catlike way of moving. my martial arts friends know what it is to move like a well oiled machine and the last fucking 6 months have been a travesty of healing time and regaining ability to do... well... anything. time to reignite experiences outside of my fucking apartment. but not just old shit. much has burned away and things that were core metals in the aloy are now but hammered gold to paint on in places where it'll accentuate.
but not snowboarding. the fucking weather has finally turned. i can feel myself coming more alive as the lethargic quelude of summer fades and the brighter cold days come back. just a few short months and we're good. dear *god* this is tourture on the level of the next hamilton novel coming out.
the coffee below my apartment is fucking *awesome*. the man makes an *excellent* drip and brews his own cream for it which is cool too. all i need to do is get some sugar in the raw and i'm *perfect* with walking outside and getting shit. I haven't had it this good since i lived down near I-5 and planetary expresso ruled my morning.
the book i'm reading is killer L.A.Banks writes a exquisistely sensual book with excellent plot structures. The execution is a bit bland in the acutal *story-line*, relying more on the lascivious aspect to carry it than actual zesty action, but then, that's about what i read right now. I still h8 that the next merdith gentry novel comes out in december. this'd be tourture if there weren't a few more of banks novels to wrap myself with until the snowboarding season starts
the new metal is forging. a dash of vampric-goth, a dnb baseline, a leaked amon amarth album and some oldskool 80's gore metal merge. disorganization still regins supreme and paper worlds are again more real than physical ones. plans abound. distractions suffocate. i need to remake those callenders. i need a few hours in a coffeshoppe to brainstorm a path with this tested core.
standing tall for those things that i've grapsed regardless of those who responded to it has allowed me to get a grip. there's a subtle approval on that. there's a time of testing that has finally passed and a sense of honor in my actions there now. that's some twisted fucked up shit to watch that combine. regardless, it appears to be a bit smoother now.
also, i've regained my catlike way of moving. my martial arts friends know what it is to move like a well oiled machine and the last fucking 6 months have been a travesty of healing time and regaining ability to do... well... anything. time to reignite experiences outside of my fucking apartment. but not just old shit. much has burned away and things that were core metals in the aloy are now but hammered gold to paint on in places where it'll accentuate.
but not snowboarding. the fucking weather has finally turned. i can feel myself coming more alive as the lethargic quelude of summer fades and the brighter cold days come back. just a few short months and we're good. dear *god* this is tourture on the level of the next hamilton novel coming out.