\\ fuck you, songwriting.

i was falling asleep in julia wakal's backyard after looking at the clouds last night:
we were trying to find the stay puff marshmallow man - and chris neal found it.
another successful birthday bash!
happy birthday accordula. happy fucking birthday.

i wish i was one of those blog people who take photos and think about
how they are going to write their blog around the shots, and what kinds
of captions could go underneath them. sadly i am one of those people who
doesn't take photos, so i guess i'm sorry about that. the party was a good
time though, i can say that.*

(*warning: more high fidelity references later on)

i was in my garage today trying to write some semblance piece that was going
to make me look good, or maybe something romantic for someone to fawn over.
but i was in a.. "fuck it." mood? i don't really know, but nothing materialized.
i think i have interesting chords this round, maybe that will work in my favour.
in all honesty, my writing comes from an external source. most of the time, just
meeting someone new will spark a new song (not about them, but a song none
the less)

i think i am looking for a muse or something. please apply within.

"I'm not the smartest guy in the world, but I'm certainly not the dumbest. I mean, I've
read books like "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" and "Love in the Time of Cholera",
nd I think I've understood them. They're about girls, right?

Just kidding.

But I have to say my all-time favorite book is Johnny Cash's autobiography "Cash" by Johnny Cash."

stay gold,
aidan.