I'm pretending the rustling sounds are waves of maple leaves gently crashing up onto a beach of patchy and blighted grass and Creeping Jenny underneath my rake.

A really cold beach: 50 degrees.

Let's pretend it's Massachusetts, then.

I'm fucking lonely.

Posted at at September 30, 2017 on Saturday, September 30, 2017 by |   | Filed under:


I keep waking up and reflexively thinking about how I'm going to need to get out of bed and get it together and get back on the highway. Just where the fuck am I, anyway?

Then I look around the room I'm in and I remember.

Heyyyy, stupid. You're in your own bed!

Posted at at September 21, 2017 on Thursday, September 21, 2017 by |   | Filed under:

Eh bien, continuons

click, set, go:

... some familiar places to not belong.

... pedal to the metal in between the nowhere I'm going and the nowhere I'm from.

Posted at at September 18, 2017 on Monday, September 18, 2017 by |   | Filed under:


I made it through my second surgery out in Los Angeles.

I haven't worked in about four months.

Cedars Sinai saved my life. What would have happened if I went to Belgium?

I had a dream I was sitting in the front window of the house I grew up in, watching my sister get dropped off after a night of partying.

And then she, and the car, slowly faded away.

I started bawling thinking I'd never see her coming home all fucked up again.

I woke up at some truck stop... somewhere... at the crack of dawn.

I'm afraid to thumbs up or thumbs down anything on this Spotify set because it's dope as fuck exactly the way it is.

Posted at at September 16, 2017 on Saturday, September 16, 2017 by |   | Filed under: