Saturday evening performance pause.
From what I wrote that night:
even though I write in prose, I see the world as one amazingly beautiful poem .
Just look at me. I'm sitting here on the cold hard ground of the lighting/sound booth, writing, listening, enjoying my solitude. I close my eyes...tilt my head back, feel a chill down my spine.
I find comfort in cold hard surfaces, reassurance in a piece of paper and pen, and solace in the sound of my thoughts swirling through my head.
Rarely do I get a break, but when the urge grips me, I just have to brace myself, because fighting isn't an option. I can't challenge inspiration.
* a bit of insight into the part of me I dont usually share. Of course, it makes much more sense in my head, but then again, emotions always do. To me, its simply sensational. And I don't mean like the journalism.
even though I write in prose, I see the world as one amazingly beautiful poem .
Just look at me. I'm sitting here on the cold hard ground of the lighting/sound booth, writing, listening, enjoying my solitude. I close my eyes...tilt my head back, feel a chill down my spine.
I find comfort in cold hard surfaces, reassurance in a piece of paper and pen, and solace in the sound of my thoughts swirling through my head.
Rarely do I get a break, but when the urge grips me, I just have to brace myself, because fighting isn't an option. I can't challenge inspiration.
* a bit of insight into the part of me I dont usually share. Of course, it makes much more sense in my head, but then again, emotions always do. To me, its simply sensational. And I don't mean like the journalism.