You're lucky, I almost broke my stream of gibberish by writing a philosophical post because I'm chillin in the cave with my editor who's fixing our lower-thirds and listening to music that I listened to in jr. high. Like Lifehouse. I've got so many memories running through my head. Mostly about the pothead I sat next to in study hall who I was absolutely in love with and we'd listen to Mudvayne together.
Oh I'm chuckling at this memory lane. layne.
I 'on se cass'd, I think I passed, I want to listen to Nirvana and The Clash and The Pixies and and break things. I'm so excited for Christmas break when I'm going to tweak this film I made for a class last year. I'ma make it DA bomb. bombshell. a blond one. fake blond. blondie. D.
da dee da dee de dee dee dee.
I want to write marshmellows and trip cars and flip bars and steal mars. And make it steel. Still and distill again. I would de-steal but real things don't D.
Remember when we used to listen to walkmans and portable CD players and when people carried boom boxes on their shoulder the first time around? Because I'm drowning in those memories right now. Gah. Editors.