The stains on the carpet
I'm starting to realize the older I get the more I pay attention to what other people are doing or how they think. I think about how ridiculous some people are.
I can be difficult to deal with at times also, of that I have no doubt.
I hate even writing about anything music related since it always seems to flow towards the cheesiness and even though I am fully writing from the heart that last statement means nothing anymore.
All musicians claim to write from the heart. It's their excuse for writing shitty music. Nickelback. I'd like my hands around your throat. You know, I can easily play both sides and fully understand how cool it would be to be a douche bag money hat little bitch.
Kid Rock.
Meh. Loss of words. I'm not even making sense anymore. I'm so blah. Where did all my passion go? Did I really lose it all running sound at the House of Rock and Roll? Was that really the death of me? Or was it Devices In Shift?