It's an odd feeling really. The reaction to all the thought bubbles swelling up in my mind. All the friends i used to have, as Bob Dylan said, "...are an illusion to me now." Even in a time of completely zero communication and absolute spontaneity, life seemed longer, without the drawn out dulls, life brings us today. Now; instant messages, or immediate one-word-conversation, or borderline-small-talk arguments. Sad.
We bought an old house hidden from everything. I sit. Stories have been told and for-told inside these walls; but for the moment they don't matter. I'm making my own stories and running with them. A bottle of wine in the works and Cinematic Orchestra in full spin in from of me. This is life, all the other perpetrators are running second best. The friends I have are first rate and for once, my family is at the top of the list, above all the self educed problems, girls, and goals that were artificially made to being with. happiness.