Granules of sand shape the visions that I gather.
Sounds of an overcast day on the asphalt.
Gloomy Thunder heads lurk around the corners.
No space.
There is space, in the alleyways.
Eat shit.
Anger builds for no reason.
I fucking hate people.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Wisdom Mulch.
This is the first song I discovered from The Brian Jonestown Massacre. As I listened to this, I thought of going on a road-trip with my friends through Utah. Just to explore the great and absolutely brilliant canyons, mountain ranges, soda fountains, and industrial areas.
Definitely one of my most favorite tunes. It brings up a lot of emotions. . . happy ones at that.
Don't make coffee. Poor milk, then Bilbo's pocket lint.
Basically I had no idea what to think of when I saw her, except "I wonder if she has English teatime brand tea?". I was thinking that because I was craving English teatime. And because I wanted to find something to do later that afternoon.
If you come to hear your own thoughts of when you write out your own thoughts, then this is not the place for your corduroys. Or any type of pants for that matter. Sometimes sifting down the lines of blank sheets just make me think of melancholic school days. . . Not necessarily in a bad way. I just remember feeling as though someone had put me in a desaturated basin of nothing but empty stomachs and a grainy textured floor.
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