(no subject)
Lisa took this picture and I'm sort of really fucked up in it but I don't look it at all. I really hold well composure when I'm fucking wasted and stuff. I don't know why.
So, I think about a show I know and how maybe we could go to it, but chances are I would be out of bounds if I stepped into your world too personally for a moment. If I took that chance and sort of pulled you to the side for a moment and made real eye contact, not the kind we've been using lately. And I think about the last time we saw that band and you sang the lyrics in my ear, I didn't know at the time you were something else. Now you've read me over, inside and out, and judged how and when I place into your life. And I'm constantly figuring out just how you've come to any of these conclusions.
I'm wearing myself out, tiring myself physically of this bullshit. There just is no satisfation in my room. It's always dark and quiet, it's always a stopping in point for the refuel I need to make it to work or the next place I drink. It's empty in so many ways. I'm too far gone to be alone or unused. It's funny all of the people who talk shit on me, because I talk more shit on myself than you can compete with. I don't mind. Anything I say or think is atleast honest.
A couple of questions that I have to a couple of people in particular. Why is it that you assume I want to be entertained? I'm not trying to be impressed, I'm trying to be comfortable in my own life. I'm completely fine with never being drunk or going to a party ever again in my life, as long as you're content with being with me. I'm trying to share a record collection with someone again, I'm trying to walk down the street with someone and sit in the grasses near the fountains again before it's too cold. Either that or find some better fountains in a different city, where it's warmer.
I've been listening to some really awesome music lately. And making what I think is awesome music as well.
My arm looks awesome, I'm going back on Saturday to get some work started on a quarter sleeve on my shoulder. I just can't wait for it to fucking heal.
Blah blah blah, I need to write a book or something. I feel confused but I know I'm awesome and that's all that matters.