halfjack

so i'm about 80 feet high, harnessed into a lift, at the top of an air force hangar, removing a 30 pound light, and thinking, amidst oh shit oh shit oh shit's, wow, my job is sometimes the shit. i've always had trouble with sit down at a desk kinda jobs, but now i doubt i'll ever be able to do one. i mean i'm by no means an adrenaline junkie, but shit it's nice to have your heart pump like that at work. and ps i'm terrified of heights. so yeah. awesome.

friday night i went to this big art show in downtown dayton at this big warehouse studio. it was really fucking awesome but kinda made me homesick for mica/copycat parties. oh well. perhaps there's hope for me yet.

i miss my guitar. i randomly picked up a guitar at this party last night and this other guy picked up another one and we just jammed for like an hour. ps i suck at guitar, so this was really fun and impressive that i could keep up. i missed playing off other people. i think i do that better than writing my own shit. shame.

let's see what other self indulgent stuff should i write.

i want a clean slate.

woman scorned? pah. hell hath no fury like a woman hurt. nothing cuts through human flesh like a woman's defence mechanisms. passive aggresiveness is armor piercing, kiddos.

i miss my friends.

i hate trust. i should really stop doing that whole trusting thing.

that'll do for now.

bangarang!