4/10/26 - Lips Like Sugar

I was able to eat today, so that's good.

Just a little bit.

Nothing profound or morose between the folds right now. It's all just being filled with song. All I can muster.

I wish I could message Bryan, I finally found those Educated Youth. And I am NOT of their number, let me tell you. Oh, that would be just a bit too sickly, as the critic could say.

I'm not going to allow myself the opportunity to fall into the same feeling. In this setting of bitterness, I invite a sensation of "invention." I have to write, and I will be piecing together visuals.

I want my...

I want my MTV...

That's all the kids like, let's be serious.

Water drippings from the storefront awnings, flashy signs in the untouchable city, the section I find myself wanting to lie down in once again. That's all they like.

For the first time, I actually think I understand Peaceful Night in the fuller sense. It's really something that never happens anymore.

I wish I could skip back to the Winter, but we don't get do-overs in life. No.

And... sometimes I wonder.

If I never spoke again, who would notice?

My sister would notice. My parents would notice. My friends down Woodward would notice. Zahr would definitely notice. Remas would notice. Manal would notice, after some time.

And in this feeling, I find who my family is. These people are my family. For them, I keep it all up.

I think I'm finished. I can stop now, with the searching. I don't need to look anymore. I don't need to try at validation anymore.

I don't need to perform. I'm setting that aside, I'll let that collect dust.

I'll put on my coat and go out into the lot and practice my set, for no one. That sounds like peace, to me.

I hate the memory that dredged up. That's life I guess.

The Cobo back lot, we're letting it happen. If I get arrested, that's just as well. Might as well give a tangible reason for the angels to fade from the picture.

I'm hoping that I can do better than last year. I'm not sure I'll make it to 24. I'm thinking I might be rash before I drop this project. The music in my ears is the only thing keeping me from attempting again, yknow. Frustrating.

It's all about income. It's all just money. None of these people are hiring really, but I'll keep applying. This job pays poverty wages, and so my mind is impoverished. Simple as. I gotta make more money. Capitalism wins this battle, y’know.

Ah, see that right there? That's why I could never join that national org. I'm not an optimist. We'll call the liaison figure, Mr Fantastic. Very flexible in their capability, I'm impressed with his leadership. 

I remembered he extended an offer, and so did Evil Eye. That's what we'll call the guy I talked about last time. Mr Richard's offer was kind, more complimentary. Evil Eye's offer was also great, but since I never took him up on it, he's since looked at me with suspicion.

It's incredible how the reputation of mirrored Aviators has been tarnished by law enforcement. It is also very funny to imagine that some of these guys still have a very cinema-poised idea of what an undercover cop looks like. You've been watching too much Miami Vice, my good sir.

I don't write in what I would understand to be an obscure fashion, and yet I firmly believe that, if I was to place my writings in front of the eyes of the subjects of my musings, they'd be none the wiser towards my speculations. I know this is the case, because when I talk to these people in person, they don't really listen if I'm responding in kindness, in patience. People only pick up on bitterness from a person of my complexion and demographic. When people see a queer African American youth, they are expecting alienation and discomfort. People tend to respond better to my words when I play to their bigotry.

That is what I do in this blog, in fact. Much of my gait is driven by a sense of bitterness. It's something I'm looking to change. A dear friend once told me, she wishes she was a more well read person, so she might understand my writings better.

I believe she was, innocently, incorrect in believing the issue was her comprehension skills. No, it is because I write in a manner suited only to my psychology. It's not too good towards the sensibilities of my peers, who do not really know me. I'm not known by anyone, save for my family, and it is not my wish for this to be my life.

I will change. Here is everything I wrote here, but in communicative speech:

I was able to eat a small brunch today, so I'm feeling better.

I don't have anything deep or super depressing to write about today, because all I'm thinking about today is music. 

It sort of feels like that's all I can manage to think about when I'm in this season of depression.

I've been blessed to make some new friends, all of which are very smart and caring young folks, most of which are in university. It's a shame that I don't feel like I fit in very well with most of them. Maybe I overestimated how good things could be for me in this stage of my life.

I don't want to write in the same way I did back when I first started writing this blog, it was so sad back then. I'm going to allow myself to express some new things in this entry, and I'm gonna work in some videos and promos later.

People tend to gravitate towards visuals quicker than sounds, in my experience. A lot of young people like things that feel relatable, that's sort of the "indie" ethos I've been avoiding.

Right now, I feel like I understand the meaning of the song Peaceful Night by Kino better, having persevered through this period of my life. Not sure I have too many peaceful nights in my head anymore.

I know that I felt better about myself in the winter, but we can't go backwards in life. Time keeps moving, yknow.

I tend to have a consistent sort of intrusive thought. I always wonder if anybody would notice if I dissappeared from life. I think my immediate family would, and my dear friends who live close by would notice. I think my friends in Gaza would notice, after some time.

I guess I'm just thinking about who my real family is. I think I'll be okay with these people in my life.

I don't need to try and keep up with these new faces anymore. I don't think I'll achieve anything great by trying to make new friends these days.

I don't think I'm gonna bother trying to perform my music for an audience anymore. It's not meant to be.

Ill take myself up on my idea of doing a busking DJ set in the rear parking section of Cobo Hall. I'll put on a coat and brave the cold night to do what I have always wanted to do, just for me. 

That reminded me of a bittersweet memory. That's life.

I'm gonna play the Cobo Hall back-lot, just watch. If I run into trouble with the cops, that'll be fine. That'll give all the pretty girls a good reason to get off of me, lmao.

I hope that my life isn't so painful in 2026. I am feeling like my suicidal feelings might get the better of me before I turn 24. I might make some reckless life decisions before I release my album, y'know. Music is the only thing that keeps me alive.

My life wouldn't be so sad if I made more money. Money really does solve everything, doesn't it? I guess capitalism is getting the better of me.

That sort of pessimistic outlook is why I'm not cut out to join the big socialist organizations. The guy who first suggested I join his, we have to create another epithet for their anonymity. We will call him Mr Fantastic, or Reed Richards. Because he's such a flexible leader, honest.

He extended an offer, but so did this other Nat'l member, who I believe is very threatened by my presence in the local organization I've already joined. I call him Evil Eye, because of his glare.

I think he assumes I must be a cop because I wear mirrored Aviators and speak with my chest. Maybe he doesnt know, but most cops aren't like the ones in Miami Vice. I'm what they call a transsexual socialite, it's normal to feel threatened by somebody of my demographic.

I try to write in a way that is most genuine to what I'm really thinking, but sometimes I think if I showed my writings to the people I'm writing about, they would have no idea this is about them. I feel this is true because of how alienated I feel when trying to talk to people in real life. 

I find that those of more Protestant/Heteronormative backgrounds tend not to take seriously the more meaningful/kind words of people who belong to social groups they don't give a shit about. 

People will only listen to what I have to say if I say it in a way they associate with black people and trans women. People who might see themselves as "woke" would generally prefer if I speak more aggressively, yknow. They would like if I seem more bitter and rough.

In this blog, I've a tendency to write in a manner that plays on that stereotype. A lot of why I write the way I do is to intently go against that expectation, to deny close minded people the ability to understand what I'm thinking. 

A dear friend once told me she wishes she was better at reading, so she might understand my blog posts better.

I don't think the problem is her literacy, I think she's fully capable in every sense. It is my fault for writing in a way that is so "deep in the pocket" all the time. I tend to write in a way that only makes sense to me. It doesn't contribute well to deepening my friendships, because I feel like so few my friends really know me at all. I don't want my life to be like that.

-----------------------

I won't be doing that again. From this framework, see if you can't parse more thoroughly the pages of my previous entries. You might learn something of me you might not like ;)

4/9/26 - Cerebrospinal

"No more numbers.

No more numbers.

No more aspiration. It's over with. We're done with the game of it.

People make it happen in spite of it, that'll have to be the drive, won't it?

I can make it to 27. I might go past it juat a bit. By then I'm hoping I am not remembered, so then it can be easy.

I have to leave the organization. I have to leave everything.

Everything. Every single person, every single plan. No more spinning plates.

My songs will not be for the community. Not anymore. My songs will not be available to anyone but myself and myself only."

Depression is a biological imbalance that will stay with me the rest of my life.

It is in states like these where I do two things. Firstly, I pray to God to give me the necessary weights around my heart to keep myself down from the hanging post. Secondly, I write.

I write and I write and I write. I write everything down. Every single suicidal thought and action, every single piece of hatred and loathing, it's all on here. It works.

I haven't attempted suicide in years. I was close a few times, but I'm just so clever you know... I figured out how to dissapoint myself. I gotta keep that up. Being serious.

I'll tell you what triggered today's spiral into ideation. I missed the general committee meeting. I wanted to attend more than anything. My inability to participate as an active member of the committee has absolutely ruined my spirits and taken all the wind out my sails. This horrendous schedule at work makes it so I may never be able to attend a general meeting ever again. I hate this job so much today, I hope I forget everything about this tommorrow. I may as well not be in the organization anymore. I think I'll text the leader that I can't do it anymore. They'll likely take it without any contest or questioning. She's a tall standing leader, a great thing for the community. Once again, that is not meant to be backhanded or sarcastic. I am being genuine.

I was already unusual enough being there as often as I was. I've seen the torrid looks from that guy from big national group, he doesn't like me at all. He feels very threatened by my presence. I will never join an organization that so clearly does not want me there. That's his fiefdom, it's his rules. Not my place to intrude.

I hope the lovely girls and gays in the  achieve great things and have fun. I mean that. That is not meant to be backhanded or sarcastic, for the record, I'm serious.

Whole time they probably aren't even thinking about my absence at all. They don't give a shit. That's good actually, that's like... a normal sort of reaction.

It's not their fault that I'm not mentally well. It's not anyone else's responsibility to check on me or make me a better person. It is my fault for being so incapable of optimism, my fault for being so entrenched in sadness and cold.

I don't like the sunny days anymore. I always hate the sunny days. I want my gray skies again. I want the obscurity of the dark back in my life, take away this heat from my life.

I will have no more hopes of connection with anyone. I knkw what it's like to date a depressed person, I can't do that to anyone else. I cannot burden another-

All of that was wrong BTW.

It's actually disgusting how on the mark he was. Tomino got it perfect. I have to stop. I don't think I have a normal interest in MSG.

No more lamenting. It's fading out a little.

Patience... moderation... keep up a good thing. Keep up a good thing.

Good fortune, Tenno.

We'll be fine. We'll be fine.

4/9/26 - Highway 61 Revisited

 I am blind, and you are ugly

It's so easy to want you

Hard to exaggerate this, y'know. I gotta head down to an unknown feeling again, real soon, sooner than I'd normally like, I think. Comfort zones totally zapped, that's what I'm thinking.

Zahr has started to reveal to me more about her aspirations, more about her "Organon."

I wish there was more I could do for her. For all the girls, y'know, I wish I could just take the reigns of the world and make a better future happen overnight. I gotta heed that lesson again, Tomino could never steer me right I guess.

I'm doing good, is what's so funny about it. I'm not suffering at all. And let me tell you, my mind is still on the most dangerous figure. I can't stop thinking about a future with one of these angels, right, it's downright twisted. There's a version of this journey that involves long lasting friendships, uncorrupted by this sort of speculation, yeah. But I'm finding that for the lot of our community, I'm a little too rare. Hard to ingratiate myself with such an "exceptional" sort of persona. I sound like a narcissist, but "I know what I've got," is more like it.

Nobody could tell me otherwise at this point. When i'm old, it's gonna be a damn shame when I pass away, because even with all this drive and talent, I know that I'm still not gonna realize my full potential. I just know it. I've got a magic that this world system is content on snuffing out. I'm not gonna let these capitalists tell me what I've got.

In every mistake, we must surely be learning...

Still my guitar gently weeps...

I guess I just believe in myself, right? What a terrible thing, I guess.

I hope I don't scare off any more living halations, right? Rays of light that I can never stand in the warmth of. It'd be easy to ignore if I was weird and gross, but that's just it. They won't stop telling me how great I am, it feels weird. Grow up being a weird kid, hard to accept being someone that straight dudes say is a "vibe," and the girls and gays say is an "icon."

this bitch really thinks she's the shit, oh my god somebody please tranquilize this narcissist tranny douchebag

Shit like this is why Archimedes thinks I'm full of myself. I don't think I like Archimedes anymore, but this is all speculative anyways. I'll never know for sure if my instinct is correct until I see him again and learn the truth.

I want, more than anything else, to perform. I want to do shows. That's all I want. I'm tired of being told no, I'm making it happen whether you people are ready for me or not.

I'm gonna do it for my friends, they deserve have their faith rewarded with success.

I gotta tell you that these new earbuds I got are ass. I only got em cause the wired cheap ones I had were shit.

I look at the floor, and see it needs sweeping... still my guitar gently weeps

I don't know why nobody told you how to unfold your love

I don't know how someone controlled you... they bought and sold you

This is more than just a psychosexual exercise in waxing and spiraling, it's a means to examine my ability to persevere. Right now, I'm operating well. I can get through a fair number of slings and arrows, it seems like.

Later today, I have GOT to work some more on The Man and Transparent Anatomical Manikin. I'm saving up right now so I can cover the next car payment, as well as lowering my credit a tad. I want to eventually get a better gig so I can travel again, just to New York for a bit. I gotta work on another visibilty ad for Manal's kids, so I can transfer a decent amount, right? We still haven't the stretch goal. They're hanging on, but I gotta make sure I'm giving them their portion so that stays true.

Saturday they've got a million different events and gigs starting at 6pm. SO, I've gotta decide which I need to see more urgently, right? I think the mutual aid for Palestine one seems better suited for my attention... but, I've never been to a fashion show, right? I've got to head to that somehow... it's never easy.

I might reach out to Trumbullplex on my lonesome, just because I feel like I'm not gonna get any bites on the straight and narrow. Fuck it, I guess. I wish I was a regular act, right? But I'm not, I've got something less proven I'm looking to put forth. We venture forth regardless. I believe in myself. Simon Raymonde follows me, I can never fail.

This album is coming together well enough, this is indeed a very drums heavy project. I'll make it there, I promise.

All I Can Do Is Cry Over You And Hope You Return Someday

All I Can Do Is Cry Over You Ever Since You've Gone Away

The Man is another track in the same sonic vein as Beaumont Banshee Girls and Ave. I'm working towards making a coherent kind of vocal styling, so that my shortcomings become my strengths, my flaws become my quirks, right? This is the magic of music.

I am lowkey thinking about Lou Reed's cynicisms regarding chord structure in rock music. It's hard to pull off simple, y'know. I can do it, though.

Soon I will be able to pull off simple. You just watch.

4/6/26 - Кукушка

Am I box office poison?

Can't get booked, maybe the politics is off putting to the clubs. I remember telling my friends how big Tel-Aviv is in the international IDM scene. Frustrating. There really are two different Electronic Music worlds, divided by Zionism.

--------------------------------------------

It's been a while since I discussed the next topic on this blog. If you don't like reading/talking about sexual stuff, scroll ahead.

I am starting to feel as if I need to be a lot sluttier. For the sake of my sanity, I gotta get cracked by the end of this month, somehow.

Cronkite told me I need be willing to indulge in a bit of "unethical" fun while I'm in my twenties. That I've been a bit too puritanical in my approach towards certain social "niceties," y'know? Like, I don't pursue anyone that I find out is in a relationship. I never initiate touch contact without the explicit consent of the other person. This has sometimes been detrimental to my ability to have lasting romantic relationships, y'know. I think I often 

I didn't express to him the root cause of my hypervigilance towards making doubly sure I never give off any creep vibes, y'know.

3/30/26 - Shut Up!

I'm in a good mood today.

I dunno if I've got the literary sense today, which only makes it more curious that I decided to blog again.

But it was just my imagination

Runnin' away with me

It was just my imagination

Runnin' away with me...

It's a Motown sorta day.

I've been entangled in a sort of divine social phenomena, y'know. Creatures of unknowable beauty grace my presence so often these days, it's something I fear I'll never learn to catalogue as anything but a mystery.

In her earnestness she revealed to me a purity of motive, and an honesty in her resolve.

"Be optimistic."

You can believe I felt like a real jackass. Why does she bother, why does she want to hear from me? I'll never figure what kind of light I might bring into the lives of my peers.

And I'm not sure what I ever did to convince myself I was less than worthy of love.

Once again I'm pulled back into the safety of the quiet storm, Christ.

What I've learned of myself is that I've a tendency towards the saccharine and genteel. I'm choosing to allow this character a day in the sun.

How many girls am I gonna let myself get all doughy for? Maybe a thousand more.

Something between a whore and a rake, and I've no plans to get rid of that arrythmia driving my mind. Not a single person has been alike, y'know? Hard to shake my head and move on.

The only thing that can motivate me to actually write a song these days is romantic ideation. These personas, these figures, they're just more intriguing than anything else I'd characterize my art as. Maybe that's shameful, I don't give a shit.

Y'know, Beaumont Banshee Girls, BBG, is about a bunch of different people. It was about a common thread of regret, right? The communitave elements of these stories make it so the song can be about all sorts of shit.

You guys should have seen her.

I was a little out of sorts, looking through the dark, y'know. Especially cause I was leaving and she was walking in, right? Short little thing, right? At least that's how I remember it.

I still remember her voice, girls. You'll probably have to kill me, but I can't get my subconscious to shut up about her. I haven't seen her in some time though, is the thing. Missed the train by a hair at the bar, kept it at "maybe next time." She seems nice.

You would not believe the fucking song that pulled on my shuffle.

You blow my mind...

I'm so alive with you...

You blow my mind...

I'm satisfied...

We gotta nuke Charlie Wilson's house.

And right after that I'm hearing "Is It A Crime?"

We can leave Ms Helen Folasade Adu well alone. She's our matriarchal empress, after all.

Maybe listening to RnB and blogging can help me get my mind off these angels, y'know.

Did you hear about the heavenly mystery from Brazil? We still don't know how that story begins. They're a person of whom I cannot speculate on more than I can just... wonder.

May God protect them, y'know.

I think the only dudes I ever talk to anymore are my Dad and Cronkite. And maybe like one or two of the dudes in the org. Gradually I'm just seeing a diminishing presence of guys in my life, idk.

I dunno if I've got the stomach for the cattiness of a lot of sceney stuff, is the thing. Dudes are dudes even if they aren't straight. At least this is my experience, right? Maybe I'm just a dickhead.

I guess that's why I just can't let myself get excited about anyone but this beauty I've gotta close my heart to. Because the first spectre of grace, they're not in the realm of the sense anymore, but there's no risk to a venture towards knowing them better.

This isn't the case for the more aching figure of my pining. Oh, fucks sake, I can't say enough about them. This one is different.

This radiance which tears my eye, how could I think about anything, anyone but them?

Part of me hopes I can stop thinking about this archangel I've met, right? Every chance I get to help them out or talk to them when I'm doing my social duty in the org feels like a psychological massage. I could talk about anything they ask me, y'know?

I noticed myself looking at them a bit longer than I should have on Saturday. What a JACKASS. This sort of thing is like poison to organizing, I can't think about them anymore than I already have.

You should have seen them. Their eyes are like nothing you have ever seen. Warm rays of light peering through the windows of the church, I might have mistaken their kindly presence for a sort of providence. What a setting to meet such a revelation of peace. It might kill me to stare too intently in their eyes, it feels like.

Pray tell of the promise of optimism, their voice is like hope in the form of a song. I could get lost in their hair for miles and miles, they've got that warm sort of darkness that puts you to sleep. To put myself in her service felt like conscripting myself into duty towards the living form of a constellation.

I need to get some coffee. It's time to shut up!

3/26/26 - Poison Tree

It's driving me crazy, but I've become accustomed to the feeling of it. I'm closing my eyes and thinking of boring shit. I don't want to think about this kind of stuff anymore. It's a really childish and underdeveloped thing to care about. I don't wanna hear about what I deserve. I concern myself with being kind to others.

I can't. I can't let myself get comfortable again. That's when it happens. It happens when I let my guard down.

It won't happen again.

I recently found myself in a dreadful situation earlier in the month, y'know? I couldn't get comfortable around a nice person, and I feel like I let them down. They liked me at the time, but I was just so terrified of making him uncomfortable that I think I came off as dispassionate and sterile. 

I kept getting up in the night to calm myself down from panicking. I felt safe around them, but I didn't feel safe with myself. I was kinda put in a scenario where I should have loosened up. I didn't. I kept asking, are you okay? Are you uncomfortable? That's all I could do. I couldn't stomach anything that was in my mind, I just wanted to make sure I didn't do anything wrong.

Maybe I didn't, but I didn't do the right things, either. The only thing I could do was hold them and reassure myself that everything was okay. What a selfish mindset to have. Whether they feel that I wronged them or not, I know that I have failed myself.

I guess it's a good thing, that I got my desired outcome of nothing. I didn't want anything to happen because I was terrified. I could kiss them, but I felt like a disgusting freak whenever I tried. The last time I did I was so unnerved, after they drove away from dropping me off, I had a panic attack in my apartment. I didn't tell them about this stuff at the time, y'know.

He's a good friend, and they expressed concern recently at my more troubling spam posts and stuff. I gave them the respect of honesty and told them what I was going on, y'know.

It just doesn't get easier. It becomes familiar. Every time I see somebody try to "talk to me" and make a move, my head is just full of my memories of giving into it. I just have to talk and talk and talk and keep banter going so I don't think about it.

I've mentioned that I've been listening to and reading a lot of Patti Smith's work. Beating a dead horse at this point.

The point being, it helps to know that it doesn't go away. I keep saying this because it's still there.

It's the only thing that helps me through the grief of it.

"It" being my ex partner assaulting me, obviously. Not worth elaborating on.

Maybe it's better to not try to grow past it. Maybe it's better if I don't try love again. These are maladaptive musings, incorrect in their assertions of incapability. That's not the right takeaway.

It is instead the revelation that feels the truest. What would I know?

On the weekends I see my parents' new dog, and in his eyes I see innocence. His eyes remind me of my baby pictures. In his eyes is a stasis of water. In his eyes, I see a feeling I miss more than anything else in the world.

A feeling I choose not to elucidate. I will not be known in this way, not again. I feel that my more fundamental, animistic spark is gone. That is the most I could say about that.

I am animated now by a sense of spite, of bitterness. I am less myself than I'd like to be.

Any time I see my friends, I hope only that I do not see in them what I see within me. For if they lose their spark, like I feel I have, it shall be known to me that the providence of the universe has all but gone away. And the pit shall widen beyond the scope of my eyes.

I must protect their humanity. Their anima. This is the poorly adjusted complex my psyche dreamed up for my life.

A lot of big words and bullshit.

Let me talk about something interesting.

Here's my list of people and things I'm looking into reading, watching, and listening to. I'm looking to change myself, again.

I've been writing more songs, and I hope these things can shape a change in approach for me.

Lene Lovitch

Sixto Rodriguez

House of Leaves

Brain Power'd

Theorem

I think I'll talk about some better things.

Maybe not better, just different. I hear from the girls fairly often, so I know their kids are okay. Thats the only thing that gives me comfort.

Zahr has been feeling upset. She wants to heat my voice and see my face. I don't know what to say. I hope I can find time to talk to her when she is awake. I never have the time.

I have an internet friend who has been busy with some medical problems and other stuff. I hope they're okay.

We had to cancel a protest today, in the org.

A woman who is interested in me added me to her close friends and I've been getting flashed every other day or so. Idk how to feel about it.

Maybe it's what I deserve. I have a headache right now.

I can hear the arpeggiator of that song in my head now. It runs up and down the walls of my heart. The most dreadful feeling I've heard in a song. Even more than the sounds of death within the noise of machines.

I dream of being allowed to starve. I find my heart wanting to die again. It'll pass, just like it always does.

Being depressed is unserious. It's nothing to worry about.

I can feel the stone being turned away, is the thing. I know things are going to change. I only hope I'm still me by the time I see it.

I'm not an entrepreneur or a business person or any of those things. I don't give a shit about that crap. I'm a human being. I'm an artist. I don't live for the sake of money, its supposed to exist to help me.

So many of the greats I've come to admire, they died. Or they were killed.

I can make it, and I can see the end, too. I'll see both.

I have to see both.

3/19/26 - Bull In The Heather

Betting on the bull in the heather

Manal is fine. Remas is fine. Zahr is fine. Life is fine.

How does anyone manage to be anything but livid, incensed, and froth with anger every workday?

It feels like lying.

It is lying. Everything is lying.

The world isn't full of life in my eyes.

It's a sort of narcissism to indulge that feeling.

I do not trust laypeople. And I believe I need to learn how to do it in spite of the trite observations.

Most American moderates agree with Trump on certain things, y’know.

Because there's a little Hitler in all of us, I guess.

I don't think its unique or profound to wax on about how much you don't like your coworkers. So I won't.

I woke up thinking about STATIONTOSTATION again. There's a flavor I'm acclimated towards that's creeping its way into my day-to-day once again. It's all so... dry, it feels like.

Y’know, cause I'm hooked on Sonic Youth again. It's been a while since I indulged in some of the sublime cynic texture. I do very much admire elements of Kim Gordon's m/o. She's not a pessimist as much as she stands above the water.

I'm very much trapped in it.

I don't want to hear from me for a while. I'm just looking for the next opportunity, the next gig.

It's not that I feel I'm anything less than incredible. No, I'm still stuck up.

I see the world, and I see an atmosphere of mediocrity, of dispirited ambivalence. I'm pro color. And we're in a really black and white world.

Archimedes is still such a protestant. They'd never understand what I mean by that. This disciple, bless him, buy they didn't know Protestants don't do priesthood until 2023. Nah, this guy is a Baptist though.

I didn't think they ever wanted to hear from me, so imagine my shock that they were [open to hanging out in the future].

I still think that they're fucking with me. They have to be.

There's no other way. Eunuchs don't intermingle with socialite townies. He's hiding something.

That's the paranoia talking again.

I want to tell you

My head is filled with things to say

When you're here

All those words, they seem to slip away

When I get near you

The games begin to drag me down

It's all right

I'll make you maybe next time around

But if I seem to act unkind

It's only me, it's not my mind

That is confusing things

I want to tell you

I feel hung up, but I don't know why

I don't mind

I could wait forever, I've got time

Sometimes I wish I knew you well

Then I could speak my mind and tell you

Maybe you'd understand

John Lennon is all of you.

That bastard would be lying to me. There's not gonna be anything to talk about.

My brain is trying to convince me to hate Archimedes. I think I'm gonna ignore it.

I didn't want to talk to Alley Cat for similar reasons. I'm about ready to give up on memories.

He didn't do anything wrong. I was definitely not the right person.

We're waiting on a good word from Angel Eyes. I'm worried about them. I think they're in danger.

I'm gonna post another chapter of Galahad. I'll see you soon.