This is the way I like it at night, calm, peaceful, listening to Brian Eno's Apollo. / My perforated ear drum is beyond a joke now. Another setback. If you haven't got your health ... forget money, man.
Hopefully, it's going to be raining the whole day later today, so I can stay in and finish You're Lying. / Seconds, minutes, on the music; and hours, days, weeks, on the lyrics. It's just the way it is, for me. / I've decided: what I'm aiming for is the popular musical appeal of Lennon and McCartney combined with a bit of the word-power of Dylan. / Yeah, I'm an ambitious bastard - but so what? I have this pathological desire to put myself beyond the reach of everyone else. That's how I won those Rubik's Cube competitions. 'Eh?' It's not really talent. (Well, it is.) It's more an insane will. 'Pathological desire, Mikey.' Yeah, same thing, I suppose. / I'm getting back to the way I was, years ago, my lost youth. 'Ah, the apple trees!' Shut it, Voice. / And this blog has helped. It has made me realize just how far I can push myself, creatively. So, blogging hasn't been a complete waste of my time.
Some woman has committed suicide because she couldn't pay the bedroom tax. Who's to blame? Not the woman. / There are too many evil people in power who have no understanding of (or sympathy for) human weakness. / My only consolation is that I know God exists. He will punish the evil-doers. And He will even punish the heartless ones who support the evil-doers with their money, votes, whatever ...
How do I know God exists? Mystical experiences. Let's leave it at that. I'm not trying to convince anyone. I'm not even religious.
I like that Bill Hicks sketch about Jesus. If Jesus were alive today, he wouldn't be a nice, soft guy. He would kick some ass, for sure.
Good night, reader(s). Or good morning. It all depends on when you're reading this. / Laters, anyway.
Hopefully, it's going to be raining the whole day later today, so I can stay in and finish You're Lying. / Seconds, minutes, on the music; and hours, days, weeks, on the lyrics. It's just the way it is, for me. / I've decided: what I'm aiming for is the popular musical appeal of Lennon and McCartney combined with a bit of the word-power of Dylan. / Yeah, I'm an ambitious bastard - but so what? I have this pathological desire to put myself beyond the reach of everyone else. That's how I won those Rubik's Cube competitions. 'Eh?' It's not really talent. (Well, it is.) It's more an insane will. 'Pathological desire, Mikey.' Yeah, same thing, I suppose. / I'm getting back to the way I was, years ago, my lost youth. 'Ah, the apple trees!' Shut it, Voice. / And this blog has helped. It has made me realize just how far I can push myself, creatively. So, blogging hasn't been a complete waste of my time.
Some woman has committed suicide because she couldn't pay the bedroom tax. Who's to blame? Not the woman. / There are too many evil people in power who have no understanding of (or sympathy for) human weakness. / My only consolation is that I know God exists. He will punish the evil-doers. And He will even punish the heartless ones who support the evil-doers with their money, votes, whatever ...
How do I know God exists? Mystical experiences. Let's leave it at that. I'm not trying to convince anyone. I'm not even religious.
I like that Bill Hicks sketch about Jesus. If Jesus were alive today, he wouldn't be a nice, soft guy. He would kick some ass, for sure.
Good night, reader(s). Or good morning. It all depends on when you're reading this. / Laters, anyway.
