(no subject)
i feel like one of the flowers fooled by fake spring now limp with frosted buds. i went to a counselor, but it really didn't help at all... but what're they gonna do in an hour, anyway? plus i was ten minutes late for my appointment. they play smooth jazz in the waiting room of that place... it worries me for anyone suicidal who is made to wait.
i haven't posted here in a while, but who am i talking to, anyway? who(if any)ever you are, thanks for your readership, and if you see me, please smile at me or something. here's one of my favorite albums for you, kind cyber-ear: Oar, by Skip Spence. One of the great acid casualties of the sixties, he recorded this beautiful, tender psych-folk album . he recorded it days after being released from a mental hospital, and weeks before going to another one.
why do i love acid casualties, and self-destructive people? why do i rend and tear at so many of my most valuable relationships (and they tear at me)? why am i moping to open, perhaps-unlistening cyberspace?
i'm gonna go read some damn comic books.
i haven't posted here in a while, but who am i talking to, anyway? who(if any)ever you are, thanks for your readership, and if you see me, please smile at me or something. here's one of my favorite albums for you, kind cyber-ear: Oar, by Skip Spence. One of the great acid casualties of the sixties, he recorded this beautiful, tender psych-folk album . he recorded it days after being released from a mental hospital, and weeks before going to another one.
why do i love acid casualties, and self-destructive people? why do i rend and tear at so many of my most valuable relationships (and they tear at me)? why am i moping to open, perhaps-unlistening cyberspace?
i'm gonna go read some damn comic books.