i've finished reading chris leo's feathers like leather which was excellent, and have now moved on to something completely different, the death and life of sylvia plath. the story is pretty fascinating but so, so sad. her son actually hanged himself two weeks ago, 46 years after his mother's suicide. some people are just born with a heavy heart.

i spent a couple of days in tilburg with mr. and mrs. reflections + baby which was really nice. i'm looking forward to going to belgium with them later this month for groezrock, this will be my third year working there. anyway, i don't know what i'm doing up at 3:40am, i have shit to do tomorrow. (don't we all?) i have ryan adams' love it hell (pt. 1) on repeat and can't get some things off my mind, maybe i will think clearer in the morning. i fucking hate the word 'soul searching', i'm just making things more difficult than they have to be.

We'll burn this town, oh baby bring me down...