Dec
1
I was feeling just about as low as I cared to feel on a Sunday. Old time urges to get the monkey off my back and retrospective thoughts about other paths I could have taken, other people I could have been. I was at a point in time where it felt like I knew too much, but had so little ability to act on what I knew. I was like a clown without a clown suit, left trying to make mime jokes without an audience, without hands and without an appreciation of mime. Fuck mime, I hate it.Tags
Archives
- December 2011
- November 2011
- April 2010
- January 2010
- December 2009
- September 2009
- February 2009
- January 2009
- December 2008
- August 2008
- July 2008
- June 2008
- May 2008
- April 2008
- March 2008
- February 2008
- January 2008
- December 2007
- November 2007
- October 2007
- September 2007
- August 2007
- July 2007
- June 2007
- May 2007
- April 2007
- March 2007
- February 2007
- January 2007
- December 2006
- November 2006
- October 2006
- September 2006
- August 2006
- July 2006
- June 2006
- May 2006
- April 2006
- March 2006
- February 2006
Easy Groover – know what you mean. Things always appear bleaker on a drizzly when you fear you will forced into a life of arty miming…
“Story”; a wicked and obvious new category by the way.
Don’t let the weasels get you, they have no sense, just an instinct to swamp you and drag you down.
I feel your pain. In fact you seem to have taken on the haggard look of someone quite familiar. He said: “You can take the face mate, just give me your brain in exchange. With the manual – seems like a complicated instrument” Then he fell in his soup.