Not a lot, no. Just this. Whatever this is.
And the good news is: there will be more of it later because this is only part one. I've still got part two to write in the night.
...
There's no end to words, and thoughts. It's impossible to stop ... ?
I'm not sure how many I will put into this post though. I've already had loads of thoughts, words ... in the last few minutes. However, I didn't type the words. I let them disappear.
No one will ever know about them. Maybe that's for the best. But these ones are here.
...
Every now and then people walk past my window. They have the audacity to speak. And I listen to them. [It's not as if I've got much choice, right?] However, they don't say anything. What do they think they're doing?
Don't they have any self-awareness?
I've heard it all before, nothing. I've heard the whole of human life before. Nothing changes. [It doesn't, actually.]
...
These words are here. They are not trying to convince anyone of anything.
I will not take responsibility. These words are on their own. Let them sink or swim.
...
There are two types of transcendence for me: my conceptual posts, and my songs.
If I'm going to do "literature", my conceptuals are the best thing I can do. I prefer songs.
I can't take much more of this. Twelve years is enough. Rimbaud only had five.
Sure, some guys go on forever. But it's out of habit. I've done it all here. / My songs? I'm desperate to get ten world-beaters. If the five new ones are as good as the five I've already got, I'll be able to put the whole lot against any songwriter ever and beat them. This is important. Please understand that I'm living in shit. I need to get out of it.
I'll take a break and then I'll be back with part two.
And the good news is: there will be more of it later because this is only part one. I've still got part two to write in the night.
...
There's no end to words, and thoughts. It's impossible to stop ... ?
I'm not sure how many I will put into this post though. I've already had loads of thoughts, words ... in the last few minutes. However, I didn't type the words. I let them disappear.
No one will ever know about them. Maybe that's for the best. But these ones are here.
...
Every now and then people walk past my window. They have the audacity to speak. And I listen to them. [It's not as if I've got much choice, right?] However, they don't say anything. What do they think they're doing?
Don't they have any self-awareness?
I've heard it all before, nothing. I've heard the whole of human life before. Nothing changes. [It doesn't, actually.]
...
These words are here. They are not trying to convince anyone of anything.
I will not take responsibility. These words are on their own. Let them sink or swim.
...
There are two types of transcendence for me: my conceptual posts, and my songs.
If I'm going to do "literature", my conceptuals are the best thing I can do. I prefer songs.
I can't take much more of this. Twelve years is enough. Rimbaud only had five.
Sure, some guys go on forever. But it's out of habit. I've done it all here. / My songs? I'm desperate to get ten world-beaters. If the five new ones are as good as the five I've already got, I'll be able to put the whole lot against any songwriter ever and beat them. This is important. Please understand that I'm living in shit. I need to get out of it.
I'll take a break and then I'll be back with part two.
