*******I asked for wine and they served me water. The bartender said he dosn't sell sympathy******
Days are getting better every time I stop myself from dreaming. Once again, I work for money. It wont be long before I sell the rest of my soul, and become an average american. I really hope I get to play a show soon. I'm willing to write shitty music, just to play a show. I know all of the dusty old guitar licks to get all the chicks. Today I painted, picked succulent blueberry's, caressed a gigantic bull and fed his friends, and watched the news and felt relieved that there is still misery in the world, and I'm not the only one suffering. This worlds too dirty, and I'm ready to push the button that ends it. Seriously, never give me a job that has control over weapons of mass destruction. My hands are a bloody mess. I guess that's what happens when you shred on the guitar, or work all week at a dirty shop. Either way, they hurt, and I need to buy new ones. Life is getting better for me, but that doesn't mean I'm going to become a nice decent person. I'm still going to rot away, and be a bitch. I like it that way. I might have good things to write about soon. Later......