I has a Ryan Adams book.

It is poetry. I am an artfag. It makes me feel forlorn.

I'm a cliche in my own mind.

I'm listening to the Ryan Adams album "Love is Hell", which is fucking amazing by the way. And what a succinct title. Angsty sorrow to the max, for sure.
I'm still waiting for those downloads to finish. All this for a blog post that had an entirely different meaning when I planned it this morning than it will when I end up posting it.
Either way I'm sure it will be interpreted in all sorts of ways. HA.
In other news I have a cold. Dayquil is pretty cool, but Jager is so so so much better.

For everything there is a word.

For everything but this.

fix it

Holy Hell Ryan Adams...

Why aren't you in San Francisco sweeping me off my feet with your crazy hair and nerdy glasses and beautiful voice and dorky-ass southern charm?
It's a fucking mystery.

Marry Me, Ryan Adams

"but i will always be curious. life is just too damn precious for it not to mean fucking everything all the time."

I read that on his blog this morning. I cannot express how synchronous the universe is being right now.