Somehow the swarm of jazz clefs and neon vibes traded themselves in for, what i would metaphorically express as, a stick of C-4 buried beneath boxes of 3" framing nails.
Last night, I spent 4 hours cranking out songs reminiscent of Grand Funk Railroad and "She's a Rainbow" from the Rolling Stones. Just music that begs for a united chorus of "La la" hippies. There was a looseness in my joints, a lightness of my brain, and all of it was ripped out in minutes by, of all things, words. The words that I have used in so many ways have come back to bite me square in the hind quarters and there's nothing I can do about it but sit and bitch in an online blog. Douggie told me to write, sorry it couldn't be a happier one bud.
God, I know I don't deserve it, but if you read my blog, would you mind sending me a metaphorical magnet for the nails?
I like it when you write, too, although I don't have any magnets for you.
ReplyDeleteAnd.... Douggie? Sorry, but I giggled :P