02-12-08
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The roads are covered in snow and the news promises more to come.
There was a similar snowstorm last year. I walked to a discount grocery store as snow fell all around me. Everything felt distant and sad. It feels like a long time ago.
One of my favorite parts of being human is being conscious of my own growth.
In putting up the music to this site, I listened to my voice change over the years. A question surfaced: Why would someone make music?
"It's really absurd to make an image, like a human being, with paint, today, when you think about it...but then all of the sudden it was even more absurd not to do it."
-Willem de Kooning
I've been singing a song that I wrote when I was nineteen:
We're on.
We're on the edge of everything.
We're stealing out, it's very pretty.
I never ever thought the earth had corners, but I am proud to say that I was wrong!
She's a psychic on her last leg; I walk beside her, out of place and feeling lost as hell.
I believe you. Will you come on back to bed?
I believe you. Will you come on back to bed?
With heightened senses, you're frightened of dark rooms.
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