RIP Gibson Medium, my first guitar pick
2003 - 2013
I'm three liters into this thing of boxed wine; I'm doing just fine.
I'm just alone drinking my fill on a whim, 'cause I don't need to think until 5:00 p.m.
So I constantly retread the topics I always peruse in my head when I pretend I'm talking to you (sorry), like: how life is just littered with elusive ladies.
I despise getting jitters from quasi-half-maybes, and the ones who are into me I'm not into meet anymore. I can only be intimate out of scorn.
Am I back in middle school with this mindset? Why haven't I been struck blind yet? Have I stumbled upon some humbling composite truth, that the person you want to be is always the opposite of you?
But my Fate has been good to me lately, and it's hard to be fake when you are so fately, and I
I'm more liters into this thing of boxed wine; here's what's on my mind--
where is my mind?
My toilet is clogged and my roommate's to blame, but she claims it was me like we're playing some game...
She's taking hostility from hospitality. Am I still her pal, or is this our reality, now?
I need to get out of this house and out of this city, because even when I am soused, it does not look pretty. But Austin will just make me pensive and New York's far too expensive to roam, and Chicago's too close to comfort for home.
Why must I try to be a drifter? Should or can't I be content to be a Lifter of the dead and the surviving, 'cause they just follow me around, or should I be striving for something far more profound?
I try to live life like a story, but everything lifelike is so boring, and I
I've just about drained this whole thing of boxed wine; now it's all on the line - no concept too sullen (no such thing as brave) will onset a lull in my trudge to the grave.
What I hear as harmony, you call cacophony. Who needs epiphany when there's apophany? (As if ontology's based in chronology.)
--My pick just broke as I was strumming. If I misspoke, I guess I had this coming.--
This song was made (I think) to make drunk thoughts mine, but now it's a charade just to drink this box of wine.