Universe-Barger
It's going to be fluffed-up boobs away!
Lindsey Buckingham makes me want all kinds of things. Strangely, things aside from his rakish, blue-eyed, angelic body...I really want to do my work and do it well. I want to be an artist and break myself on the racks as he and they do. It's really heartening, you know...to see someone doing their work and have it be valued and seen as work. Because, while I have never pulled a plow nor bent down to shine shoes for a living, I figure that what I do is fairly damn difficult especially considering the fact that I'm an egotistical blowhard retard who never actually works. Someday. Someday I'll direct the world from a stack of books I've written. And no one can say a thing without a "Tut, Tut" from me and a finger point to the obvious output of my existence. My right to have spent so many years stealing everyone else's oxygen and water supply not to mention the vast amount of chocolate I've consumed.
Strange to pass over Neutral Milk Hotel to listen to Fleetwood Mac. Jesus, they're a band, man. And I'm your flower child.
I continue to not make sense.
He also makes me want to get my guitar out.
I cut my hair, did you know? Or I got it cut and it's shoulder length and I honestly like it. Despite the fact that I am no longer a ragamuffin rat's nest version of Stevie Nicks. It'll grow and now it's all flippy and dippy and not Ben Franklin (are your follicles still displeasing you, Stephanie?)
So, I won't be able to write tonight seeing as how I won't be here. But I am thinking, isn't that something? Thinking. Oh look, I found a dollar.
