A BLOG ABOUT NO STORIES...
...so, had to play "ambulance man" with a good friend of mine the other night after she threatened to take her own life...tracking her down was the hardest part: she was talking about pills and guns and all sorts of crazy stuff...
...so I make it down to her apartment and during the drive I'm having all of these vivid Kafka visions of blood and sheets...red lights, static sounds of screeching CB calls and lots of numbers being shouted out...but her parking lot is as isolated as May skies when I get there ...knock at her door...dogs shouting at me...NO ANSWER...
...wait in the parking lot puffing on blue smoke...silver thunder parks and she arrives at the door...glad she's OK...though her girlfriend's going off about being spit at in the face by one of her "friends" who attacked her for her style of living...and if there's an area of law I could dive into with my cheap useless degree...it would have to be in the form of some sort of civil justice becuz I hate any form of bashing. The weak always remain to be the finger-pointers...
...THIS WHOLE NIGHT WORKS AS A STRANGE EPIPHANY FOR ME, as so does this weekend because things got really strange again...another "white night" spent behind some bar...and he comes over to my place and we talk about music and ex-romance and I'm not really into it as I am to what's going on inside my head...to wake up feeling numb again and trashy...
...have to clean the place again...change the sheets...open the windows...roll some more cigarettes...change the tunes...listening to Interpol while dreaming about threesomes and the life that began when it ended...
...and just as I'm letting the gentle wind breeze behind those black mystery curtains of mine...know that I will collapse during a time of control...gonna spell those words out in blood Tony Wilson style...I have a big mess in my head...need some dialogue...
...so, had to play "ambulance man" with a good friend of mine the other night after she threatened to take her own life...tracking her down was the hardest part: she was talking about pills and guns and all sorts of crazy stuff...
...so I make it down to her apartment and during the drive I'm having all of these vivid Kafka visions of blood and sheets...red lights, static sounds of screeching CB calls and lots of numbers being shouted out...but her parking lot is as isolated as May skies when I get there ...knock at her door...dogs shouting at me...NO ANSWER...
...wait in the parking lot puffing on blue smoke...silver thunder parks and she arrives at the door...glad she's OK...though her girlfriend's going off about being spit at in the face by one of her "friends" who attacked her for her style of living...and if there's an area of law I could dive into with my cheap useless degree...it would have to be in the form of some sort of civil justice becuz I hate any form of bashing. The weak always remain to be the finger-pointers...
...THIS WHOLE NIGHT WORKS AS A STRANGE EPIPHANY FOR ME, as so does this weekend because things got really strange again...another "white night" spent behind some bar...and he comes over to my place and we talk about music and ex-romance and I'm not really into it as I am to what's going on inside my head...to wake up feeling numb again and trashy...
...have to clean the place again...change the sheets...open the windows...roll some more cigarettes...change the tunes...listening to Interpol while dreaming about threesomes and the life that began when it ended...
...and just as I'm letting the gentle wind breeze behind those black mystery curtains of mine...know that I will collapse during a time of control...gonna spell those words out in blood Tony Wilson style...I have a big mess in my head...need some dialogue...