today’s notes from music 82:

some things are just crap.
the people you meet.
the words they say.
the judgements i make. Crap.

i don’t want to write and be sad, angry or Bitter…just to compensate.
but i don’t want to be trite and say Passionate.
it’s all been said, done, written. expressed before. 
So WHAT, if not by me. 

i want. I want. I Want.
i want to be able to single my thoughts.
i want to have rhythm. to be fluid.
to be like this cello so mellow
as it tweaks and reverberates as i anticipate

i think it’d be fun to be like music 82
and pause my thoughts,
skip a track,
and still,
relish in its math
like some sort of melodious mildew.

The picture freezes.

Skip a scene, miss a scene, play My scene.
But it’s not written.

It’s crap. It’s all Crap.

hah.  sandy should learn to pay attention in class and not try to be a poet.  i blame vascon.  .