When you’ve spent as much time as I have cleaning up spilled coffee and steak sauce, it’s the little things that you really begin to appreciate.
Stuffing shells, smelling empty bourbon bottles, buying books,
and burying your blues.
It’s the easy things like these that begin to define your time when you don’t know what else to do with it.
Filling notebooks with jibberish because empty pages are depressing;
and people seem to like jibberish.
Don’t they?
BLONDE ON BLONDE 