listening to bowie to wash the sound of my own voice out of my head.
i don't know if i'll be able to do slams. i don't know that i'll be able to read aloud. this new material. it's more visual. i'm not sure what to do. just keep producing. after i'm dead in 30 years, someone will find it. maybe then . . .
everything is vague today and i feel like i'm standing still, turning around slowly. i think i need a cigarette and some feline companionship. i'm starting to get a little weird.