Panic

Write dammit...write it in as many words and as little sentences it takes...whatever needs to be done, don’t shy away. No more lies. It’s only words and words are all you have...ha!...
So much these words can do...create, destroy, humiliate, infatuate, betray...every verb at their control. Humans are the most vocal of all the animals. That is both boon and bane...which is higher in the hierarchy is anyone’s blame game.

Kill the dj, the blessed fucking dj...oh that Morrissey meant well.

Stay sharp man. It’s the drugs...I can’t control my fingers. They type like there’s no tomorrow...but you know what I can do, I can put these dots. Notice the dots...always three in a row...they’re mine. I did them.

There is no point really, just like life. No point, no real point that is. The preachers preach fiction.

You have to watch the details. You have to have somewhere to hang your heart on at the end of the day. Don’t wear it on a sleeve. It’s way too risky that way. Start or follow a band which sings sad songs...now we’re talking.

Tattoos and skinny ties are done. So is the preppy look. Something’s replacing them and I don’t know what just yet. It’s still taking shape. Fashion the fickle art.

Books are my shoes. I have to fight the urge to buy one every week. Every week of every month. That’s a lot. I do judge them by their cover though.There are a lot of bad books out there. Much more than good books. An awful lot of people think they can be writers.

What is the purpose of this madness? What is the purpose of this life?

No more lies please. And less words.