gurov

here's something I'm working on:

Longing late nights and a white page of possibility. Listening to music is like getting drunk, you forget the feeling until you are immersed in it, then you ask yourself why has it been so long since Ive done this? Once the music wears off, and you are no longer inspired, the track no longer inspires imagery of your success and your impending greatness, and all you are left with is an ache in the head- then perhaps you can answer yourself, saying this is why I dont do this every night.

Obsession with linear, or for that matter, the lack of linear. The smoke lingers and collects, like a storm, casting a shadow and you.I mean I take this feeling, this mud of stuff and I try and shape it into something into some thing.

I woke up and drank the remains of the Stoli vodka that resided in the middle of several other defeated bottles of several other types of spirits. I wasnt sure whose house I was at but I had been there before. Some friend of a friend that seemed to have these social drinking get togethers. Social drinking in this sense only means part time alcoholics, I suppose. There was some girl on the couch with me. Some large snoring fat man sat on the chair, and there looked to be two more on the floor under some pathetic blankets. I didnt recognize any of them.
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