Song of the day: Highway Blues

“Sick on the I-5 with you on my mind…”

Seahaven's album Reverie LagoonArtist: Seahaven

A blend of acoustic instruments, white noise, and an echoing voice organic in tone makes “Highway Blues” the perfect song to put on Repeat. You’ll listen to this song when you’re on a roadtrip by yourself, when you’re just feeling lightly melancholy about life in general, or perhaps when you’re wanting to learn something new and simple on the guitar. And you’ll listen to this with the memories of someone else on your mind.

Do I speak from experience? These are the questions worth asking.

Great fields, they pass, made of greener grass.
My neck fights my will to not look back.
At everything that I never had and now will never have.

Just promise to let me know if you come around.
I won’t be too far from Torrance, California.
I’ll come to you at the moment I hear your call.
I’ll pick you up in your truck, this time no hesitation.

Pensive perfection. You can find this song on Seahaven’s album Reverie Lagoon: Music For Escapism Only.

New happenings are afoot! (with a bit of a personal update)

Indeed, new happenings are afoot! Well, maybe like one or two.

It all began with me deciding to revamp the look of my blog, which I think will be a positive change to help visually emphasize the creative writing personality this blog has been developing for some time now. I’m a fan of the new font style. Nice, large, bookish font. I’m sort of a bit nerdy on fonts.

However, in my theme-changing process, I noticed the forlorn category previously known as “Musically Minded,” now known as “Music Library.”

I haven’t written much on music, just for the sake of itself, in a long time. And that kind of makes me sad, because that was how I started learning to love writing (you write about things you love and in high school I would have died on train tracks for music, I loved it so much). But you know how college can take hold of your life and shake it like a dog with a new rope toy? Like, it’s really entertaining and exciting at first, but as “the fun” keeps going on, everything just gets kind of torn-up, grimy, worn-out, and sad?…yeah I’m still talking about college…learning Life at the speed of light does things to you…

Now that I’m OUT of college (perhaps “survived” is a better word?), I’m learning “how to Life Without School,” which is a lot of learning how to invest my time in THINGS I ACTUALLY HAVE TIME FOR. Sorry, I get kind of excited thinking about all the time I have now (you guys, I no longer feel like a plastic water bottle that’s 2/3 empty and twisted out of shape, it’s so COOL). And yes, I’m still working on the “full-time-job” thing, how did you figure?

But until my time starts to get used up by more and more responsibilities I’ll inevitably take on again, I’ve been investing my freedom in writing a lot–which has mostly been working on a poetic story project, (which I’ve been tagging under the working title “Summertime in the Orion Nebula,” for those of you who have been reading) which I’m excited and scared about it but mostly excited. However, I’ve also decided I need to write about music again, starting with re-introducing “Song of the Day” posts into my life. And I’m shooting for every Friday starting today. AKA, you’ll want to stay posted for later ;) .

By the way, thanks to all the new people that keep showing up to (apparently) read my stuff. It’s encouraging.

Stay hardcore, my lovers.

I use 0.5, 0.7, and 1.0 mm Pilot Pens (after David Foster Wallace)

It’s just words. Just words. Just words and words and words. Just just and just words and words just words.

Nothing just words.

Everything just words.

All words just words. 

All words, Just words.

Everything, Just words.

Nothing, Just words.

Nothing nothing just, Just words. 

Everything and everything just, Words.

All words all, Just words.

I wrote this to say: Just words. Just and words just words words and words words, Just words.

A note, Here–Just words. Just words and words. Just words and just words and words and words just words. Just just just and just; Words. 

Just words just words just words just words just words just words just words just words just words just words just words just words just words just words just words jut words just words just words just words. Just words just words just words just words just words just words just words just words, Just words just words, Just words just words just words just words just words just words just words just words just words.

About: Just Words.

I: Just Words.

You: Just Words. 

And It: Just Words.

You especially: Just Words. 

You, Especially: Just Words.

Just just just and just words and words, just words. 

Just words and words and words and words just just just and just and just words just words just words just words and just words just words just words and just and words, Just words.

The best way to break the ice is with a dead deer

or a single scoop
at Marianne’s
on a cone, please.

chocolate and peanut butter
what kind did you
get? 50-50?
“Customer Favorite,”

maybe i should tell you
i’m not, though.

i can feel every microcosmic smudge of cream on my face and every potential, which means i’m gonna shred this napkin thinner than these get-to-know-you conversations before we’re even through here, yet it won’t necessarily stop me from eating the whole curséd thing even though i firmly believe that my alternations between forming coherent phrases and swallowing these fantastic globs of chocolate certainly will betray my severe struggle to appear at least averagely controlled, so yeah, basically this melting Mount Olympus sugardream is the main cause of my urge to run into the middle of the street but at the same time the very thing thing that keeps me from running into the middle of the street, in light of the negligible fact that i also think you’re kind of cute, but whatever, i mean

this is
small talk. anyways.
Which reminds

me, have you seen the
dead deer
on the trail?
I found it when i

was running through the
this morning.

Get-to-know-you questions after finally breaking the ice (a prayer)

Where are you when I am less than
and want to stone myself for my own transgressions.

But, guilty as charged: I’m not perfect. Am I
allowed to cast stones on even myself?

And sometimes I wonder whose hands are
the most. Now I have said something terrible.

But you are not normal. Lion’s
in your eyes. I think that’s why I love you.

And I am a fool. I can hardly tell the difference between
and drowning. Will you catch me either way?

I question that you’re the sky; I think you are the
and dirt. Besides, that is where I am made every day.