bistromath's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- tick tock fuck off I miss too many people. Too many dead people that should still be wandering around fucking themselves over slower than quicker. It's Elliott Smith sitting in a bar in portland and an empty garage in elmira and my grandparents and sometimes the guy that sat behind me in school that died on a set of railroad tracks and I don't like funerals and it's people I knew and know and people I never met and it seems like too many people die in my life. Too many obits in my diaryland and too much sorrow in my writing and not many silver linings, and so little faith in something better awaiting us. It's guitars and roadtrips and melencholy sounding large in the caverns and the river draws and up there in the canyon. Time is such a cruel mistress to keep us glued to her nipples while staring at seiko in the last and found. 2:39 p.m. - 19.07.2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||