I didn’t get drunk this weekend but I did get Mondo-stoned. That special kind of stoned, when you catch yourself asking just what in the blue-fuck you’re doing with yourself.
I sat down at my little music spot, Indian style.
(hey man…)
“what?”
(this looks like something a little autistic boy would build. Look at all these knobs and little buttons and flashing lights. I’ve never met a person that embraces escapism quite like you…)
“I just want to make a thing. I made a little place so I could make a thing and be happy. Is that alright with you?”
(do your thing man)
Maybe twenty minutes,maybe thirty,time gets fuzzy. I made a thing, and I listened to it, and I was happy with the organic nature of it. I was pleased that it didn’t sound “forced”, it also didn’t sound like a bad impression of my heroes, it sounded nice.
(that’s uh… That’s some pretty effeminate guitar playing you’ve got there)
“fuck you, it sounds nice”
(just saying..)
I think “chiming in” is nature. Everybody has a heckler in their skull, do they not?
My little thing sounded nice..and I don’t regret building an autistic spaceship. Fuck the voice in your head, use him when you need him, never forget that you have the power to tell him to fuck off.
dawn 