Norah Jones & a glass of wine, please

now tell me that doesn’t sound like JUST what you need.

I don’t know why I’m up (how many times have i started writing ANYTHING that way?) Only that its 2:38 AM and the house is asleep and I am less pensive than usual. Which is a good thing. I try to stay away from the emo, drinking-gin-at-11-in-the-morning, cut-off-own-ears sort of artist thing.

But I miss some of it. That tension pokes, prods, provokes in just the right way sometimes.

Now, sometimes, I feel happy. Actually, I am a mostly happy person. But why does that make me feel less creative? Phillip called it an underdog complex. I half understand what he means, but maybe only because i dont want a part of it.

See? I’m rambling.

Sometimes i feel like the only reason i keep at it when i’m not angsty is because Jen and Phillip (lovely, lovely people) ask for it occassionally.

I just wish I had something to show them.

But I shall try.

She had been remarkably blase about sending out exclusively four letter text messages.

ok its late. i shall try again tomorrow.


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