piracy

so much for the trackhoe.




goddamn i'm ready to have something to say again.

paradise is apparently poison for my muse. the crazy bitch likes smoke and concrete and coffee, twenty-hour days, then spends all of her time tormenting me, since she won't give me anything publishable.

so here i sit, in paradise, in fucking eden, a landscape of food and fruit and scent and life, and she's like, fuck this. see ya.


yeah. creativity. who needs it.