Post by Nixon on Jul 26, 2011 20:06:55 GMT -5
A tattered leather bound book is nearly always stuffed under the males mattress, no one knows that its there. Yet some how you stumbled across the sacred object. It nearly falls apart in your hands, so you open it carefully. Flipping ever so softly threw the pages as to not rip the frail pages, you come to a page and scrawled across the pages is horrible but legible handwriting:
Possible Date: July 30 2019
I was sitting around today, watching the girls shake they're asses to some unknown artist that died year ago and I started thinking about how it used to be. I realized that more than anything I miss making music, what I wouldn't give to have a guitar again. Luke is still working on a new prototype, still can't find anything to hold up as strings or glue that really sticks, Its taking too long in my opinion. I really miss grass, being able to walk around barefoot and real sleep. Its been at least 7 years since I really slept last. Cuddling... yeah I miss that.
Of course I have enough women around me to please me for long enough that I shouldn't have to worry about it but I do miss real relationships. They're not worth it out here, It just makes you more vulnerable to BLind. Gives you one thing more than your life to worry about, Makes me wonder if this whole bar/strip club/arms race is worth it, gives me more people and shore shit to worry about, less time to think about my own life. In that split second decision, I may step in front of a ray gun blast to save one of the guys. I know if given the chance I would step in front of it for love. Really, that's the only thing I'll never find out here... That or true happiness.
I don't think that exists anymore, Must have went in 2012 with the rain. Last time I smiled like I meant it is still the last time it rained. I wonder where I really an right now. What if were not really in California, what if somehow we've migrated further and further out. how close am I really to home? I wonder if Tennessee even exists anymore.
Still dreaming of creativity...
Possible Date: July 30 2019
I was sitting around today, watching the girls shake they're asses to some unknown artist that died year ago and I started thinking about how it used to be. I realized that more than anything I miss making music, what I wouldn't give to have a guitar again. Luke is still working on a new prototype, still can't find anything to hold up as strings or glue that really sticks, Its taking too long in my opinion. I really miss grass, being able to walk around barefoot and real sleep. Its been at least 7 years since I really slept last. Cuddling... yeah I miss that.
Of course I have enough women around me to please me for long enough that I shouldn't have to worry about it but I do miss real relationships. They're not worth it out here, It just makes you more vulnerable to BLind. Gives you one thing more than your life to worry about, Makes me wonder if this whole bar/strip club/arms race is worth it, gives me more people and shore shit to worry about, less time to think about my own life. In that split second decision, I may step in front of a ray gun blast to save one of the guys. I know if given the chance I would step in front of it for love. Really, that's the only thing I'll never find out here... That or true happiness.
I don't think that exists anymore, Must have went in 2012 with the rain. Last time I smiled like I meant it is still the last time it rained. I wonder where I really an right now. What if were not really in California, what if somehow we've migrated further and further out. how close am I really to home? I wonder if Tennessee even exists anymore.
Still dreaming of creativity...