baggage's Diaryland Diary

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Siobhan's fastball

Forgive the last entry. I was starting on a rant about the election when I was interrupted.
I won't say anymore here-since Nictate manged to compose my exact thoughts-only much more eloquently at her pad.

I spent tonight partying with a bunch of new folks; people I haven't met before-minds and lives virgin territory for my inquisitive nature.

For once, I felt at ease in the company of strangers. I wish I was like that more often.

This weekend I work on track 12-a wordly sounding ditty in an open tuning. It sounds Indian to me-and I'm imagining the sorts of booms and crashes that would complete the mood.

Sitar and harmonica sure would be nice.

I'm elated about my renewed passion for creating music. I feared the laziness that followed mom's death, and wondered how long it would take to recharge.

What else? What else? Work has left me a bundle of nerves. There are two situations. Both silly, both cliched. One is caused by problematic situations brought to life by certain troubling personalities. Another is the problematic situation brought to life by a certain wonderful personality (if you will).

Yes I know.

I believe I'm much better than this.

And I will be. I just need some silly ol' time.

Favorite lyic of the moment:

"Sometimes, I feel like I'm drifting away.
That's all I can say.
It's nothing I can't control.
But, in matters of the heart and soul.
I must admit that I just don't know."

True dat.

10:59 p.m. - 2004-11-05

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