The silence is the brass section of a fanfare for this solitude and I will revel in it, then take it for granted momentarily. I haven't been here so long and I've barely remembered my account name, let alone my password...drippy faucet...drip drip drip. I still feel like a out-of-work plumber/tourist. The irony is that I've been testing the equation, avid of some literary compass. How do you slice it? Writer, Record Producer, Webmaster? It's not ambivalence, no, no, not that. It's the spiritual stitches. What will these yield?
Writer:
Fulfillment in words and their fashion trends...covers conversations in small arenas...slight sensation of the elite and attention is payed due (remotely and imaginary)...self expression guaranteed therefore miscellaneous outlets aren't mandatory...you become a professional observer or a clever bullshitter...among other things
Record Producer:
You are in a cocoon of sounds...pony tails (man ones) and 40 pounds...Marlboro 100's...Passion like Italians...maaaad soul
Webmaster:
Manufactured robot...a flight higher in ruling the world...
Fuck it lets do all three. Good luck me.
