I need to go to a black place.
I would not have been a great mother. I would have raised a person I probably would not know very well, because she would have been secretive with me, a little afraid of. A beautiful thing, surely she would have been, between Adam’s spirit and mine, we would have conjured someone truly beautiful. A wonderful father who was fun and always showed her love; a mother, who loved her just as much, with a cozy-dark, glittering fire, yet also shadowy place – many empty places that would be transformative and deep, but tainted with malice and wailing from the deep inside her reflection, was an incapacity to love another person in a consistently healthy way. Perhaps the potential for something that was entirely their own potential reality would have been the greatest thing I could have given a person? Like, perhaps I would have gifted an incredible imagination on just the right sort of organism and that she would have grown up to be grateful for my greatest wish to be hers to ask and to receive what ever it is that she may have wanted.
I’ve been listening to NIN Pretty Hate Machine and just fucking digging it. I may pick up Green Day soon. I never got super in to it, but also loved them. It’s so strange. I rely on other people to supply me with my art and music – but I think I spread gratitude and devotion as payment, so that’s okay.
I like spelling out ‘okay’. It looks and feels nice.
You know who I couldn’t stand? Wilson Phillips. Sorry.
Low Roar, the Icelandic band. Might be some kind of music for me. ❤
Right now, I’m listening to music from earlier this year – and maybe much longer? It’s good.
I really like all my work friends. They love me, too. I feel very protected and at peace (safe) when I am there. Even when it sucks. I’m super appreciative of that and them. Each sweet soul there. I’m so glad I never told them off. I think each has benefited from my silence at moments where once upon a time I would have made them regret me.