another idea for an interesting title, to be written into an interesting story: "An Easy Name to Remember." it sounds too predictable, on second thought.
why can't I get away with writing minimalist masterpieces, like "Fennell." you probably have to be in the business for at least ten years before they give you a parking space, fifteen to be called a minimalist without people having to laugh.
I've been listening to a ton of Elliott Smith stuff and want to find one genius who isn't dead. and I hate self-pitying vibes like that, woe to us, all our heroes have burned out on celestial problems only they were privy to. it's tiresome.
the moon in "Starry Night" is impossible. I'm at a Quinsig computer right now, and they have an endless number of prints of it and a bunch of other art than anybody can recognize. and the shadow should be growing from the right to the left, and with the shape of the bright part it wouldn't look a thing like it's supposed to on the second day. that's why there's no "Starry Night 2." the geometry is impossible.
I should probably write that essay about the New Testament, but I don't have my Bible with me, and while the Internet can help me with direct quotes, it will do nothing for my laziness. on the contrary, it will bevvy my laziness. it's scaffolding, like I barely learned in Early Childhood Education 121.
speaking of which, I should probably go to class now.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
chapter four: wham of sleep
thursday I went back to my high school, mostly to visit. that meant I had to wake up at five in the morning, and since of course I was up till two writing the carpenter story the night before, thursday was no fun for anybody.
then I got home and slept for about two hours before being woken up by my phone ringing. had an hour-long conversation and then hung up, fell asleep five hours later.
friday was about as much fon as thursday. and friday night, I decided I was so sleep-deprived, maybe I should consciously try to stay awake. so I did.
when you get less than eight hours of sleep in three days, your brain goes into REM withdrawal and tries to make up for all the lost time in one huge REM-fest. that was Saturday. I had some weird dreams. my entire body feels like it's been weighed down by sleep. heavy, like there's congealed sleep-dust inbetween every string of muscle in my legs. it's odd. waiting for them to dissolve. glad I have this week off.
then I got home and slept for about two hours before being woken up by my phone ringing. had an hour-long conversation and then hung up, fell asleep five hours later.
friday was about as much fon as thursday. and friday night, I decided I was so sleep-deprived, maybe I should consciously try to stay awake. so I did.
when you get less than eight hours of sleep in three days, your brain goes into REM withdrawal and tries to make up for all the lost time in one huge REM-fest. that was Saturday. I had some weird dreams. my entire body feels like it's been weighed down by sleep. heavy, like there's congealed sleep-dust inbetween every string of muscle in my legs. it's odd. waiting for them to dissolve. glad I have this week off.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
chapter three: sanded-down belt
Choice is such a weird word, the way we use it. It can refer to the hard physical things we're deciding upon (which of these choices do you pick) or, used in the singular, it can encompass many of these at once (make your choice among these). And it just sounds odd, like a new species of lobster that doesn't fit into any existing taxa, so we start defining it in French. It's the only logical way to do it.
Barack Obama has a three-in-four chance to be the second guy in the general election. Hillary Clinton is at one-in-four. I'm still holding out for Mike Gravel.
I feel like my eyes are bugging out of my head. This is probably from staring at a computer for too long. The only people who know how to use their eyes are artists, and I just play one on TV.
Carpenter's story is cooling off. Sad, but unavoidable. At least it hasn't gotten long enough to ruin all other things attached to Vanishing. God, I wrote that a month ago. I should go to class.
Barack Obama has a three-in-four chance to be the second guy in the general election. Hillary Clinton is at one-in-four. I'm still holding out for Mike Gravel.
I feel like my eyes are bugging out of my head. This is probably from staring at a computer for too long. The only people who know how to use their eyes are artists, and I just play one on TV.
Carpenter's story is cooling off. Sad, but unavoidable. At least it hasn't gotten long enough to ruin all other things attached to Vanishing. God, I wrote that a month ago. I should go to class.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
chapter two: peeling paint
I had to pump out my cellar, since everybody in the northeast got so much rain. It's a peaceful thing. I stood outside with an umbrella and my foot on the end of the pipe and the water drained out. I wondered how it could run uphill, from my basement into my lawn, and remembered the plug in the kitchen. I watched it weave the grass into orderless braids. I read something I wouldn't remember after reading it. It was a fine way to spend a weekend.
Everybody's going bald at QCC and it's starting to worry me. Does my full head of hair make me a target? Should I adhere to the pattern? Everybody loves a pattern, after all. Especially bald people- especially when your self-respect is on the line.
I figured I should probably be eating less and sleeping more, but I couldn't do both, and haven't made my decision. Will at lunch.
Now I have to go gas the car up, and draw a bunch of shit I don't know how to draw, and then write a few papers and maybe finish the rest of the carpenter's story. It should sound more biblical than it does. The kingdom of Heaven is within and/or among you. It's breathtaking.
Everybody's going bald at QCC and it's starting to worry me. Does my full head of hair make me a target? Should I adhere to the pattern? Everybody loves a pattern, after all. Especially bald people- especially when your self-respect is on the line.
I figured I should probably be eating less and sleeping more, but I couldn't do both, and haven't made my decision. Will at lunch.
Now I have to go gas the car up, and draw a bunch of shit I don't know how to draw, and then write a few papers and maybe finish the rest of the carpenter's story. It should sound more biblical than it does. The kingdom of Heaven is within and/or among you. It's breathtaking.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
chapter one: dear jay
Dear Mr. Severin,
I hope you do not think I am a stupid kid. I know many people who believe this, and a few of those people are in my own family, which is a distracting and embarrassing thing to have happen to you, even as a small child. I believe I have to properly explain myself before continuing on to the real point of this letter, which is to ask a few questions to you. When I was a child, I thought that America was like a baseball team. It had to win, every time, like the New York Yankees, or it would fall on hard times and never win again, like it has for the past eight years. If it began a losing streak, it would flounder expensively on the stockroom floor, buying A-rods and Jeters and firing its bedrock from under its feet, expending all the good luck it had acquired over its strong years, until only bare tatters of its formerly glorious standard remained. I was thinking about this today, in the context of what you recently said about the Islamofascists. (I dislike the term. I think it would be much more direct to call them assholes.)
You said that since Barrack Obama's middle name is "Hussein," which means "handsome" in Arabic, he should be open to a higher level of scrutiny over his past, and that anybody disagreeing with you on the matter of racial profiling is a moron. You said it in such a way that discouraged those that disagreed with you as believers in a fairy-tale of tolerance and equality and egalitarianism, a blanket of idealism which would burn up like a tissue on a hot coal if exposed to reality.
Which leads us to our first real disagreement, which is about the human species.
I'm going to have to rely on a hypothetical situation, now. I hate to do it, because I risk coming off as a stupid kid again, but that's the dice I'm handed. Say you're on the lookout for a suspected terrorist. You don't know who he is, exactly, only that his skin is dark. To find out who he is, exactly, you'll have to intrude upon his constitutional rights against search and seizure, invade the space the law provides him. And you'll have to do it to many people, throw your net wide to catch this one fish. Now you have a dilemma: do unpardonable harm to the rights of your fellow citizens, or get an asshole away from those he'd like to harm.
I believe the former is probably worse than the results of the latter. I believe the harm we can do to ourselves at least equals, if not outweighs, the harm others can do to us. In spite of our efforts to quantify and color-code it, the danger posed by possible terrorist attacks will always be an unknown. What is known is how much we've hurt ourselves. Terrorists haven't destroyed our Constitution, mocked the rule of law or frightened us into complicity nearly as effectively as our own leaders have. I also know that the hypothetical situation has probably happened on a very large scale to a very large number of people with dark skin. The fact that there is a PATRIOT Act virtually guarantees it.
I don't know if my belief in all this will turn to ash like a tissue paper on burning reality, the way you guarantee it will. I'm not proud enough to want it not to, just for the sake of saying "I told you so." But I don't think abandoning the single important, unique thing about the people of the United States when faced by an ungracious and hateful few is prudent or helpful to American interests. I'm sure you'll quote Jesus in some absurd way, about searching after the one lost sheep and leaving the ninety and nine.
I'm kind of a college student. In English, we read "Young Goodman Brown," by Nathaniel Hawthorne. In the story, Brown is shown all of his neighbor's sins and flaws and evils, all the things they had hidden before. In reaction to this, he becomes a sick, spiteful, unattractive man. He loses all respect for his friends, and is generally distrustful of all those around him. He loses faith in people he once looked up to. He dies unhappily.
I would now like to ask you two questions: When an American Congress passes a law that deprives its constituency of the rights they took an oath to protect, what does it mean?
And: When a truck full of Blackwater mercenaries drives through an Iraqi neighborhood and opens fire without any discretion towards civilian bystanders, what does it mean?
I only ask because I have no idea. And I'm seventeen now, and will be eighteen very soon, and will have the right to vote, and don't want to do this with my eyes closed to these important questions. (Again I acknowledge that I might look like a stupid kid; those who ask don't know, etc.)
Here is an attempt to answer them. There are two possibilities:
1) It means nothing. What happened in both instances was the result of nebulous concepts and circumstances beyond my ken and far beyond my control. The real truth is that the extent of my control over anything concerning American government, a single vote, probably could not have kept any of those circumstances from forming. (It wouldn't have in 2000, though I was ten years old at the time, and sorely unable to vote. The same for 2004. I was fourteen. It was a frightening and dismaying state of affairs.)
2) It means everything. My vote should've done something to discourage the war, the assault on civil liberties, and the people who wanted it all. They should've listened to myself and nearly half of all voting Americans in both 2000 and 2004 who had second thoughts about murdering everything good and special about America.
Both these answers assume that, had I a vote to cast when I was ten and fourteen years old, I would've cast it for Gore and Kerry, both times, and against George W. Bush, both times. And both are finally irrelevant, I suppose, because we're still in Iraq, and the first, fourth and fifth Amendments have been gravely injured, maybe irreparably.
I hope you can answer these questions, because I cannot. I also hope that you can find some kind of middle ground between these answers, because I cannot. I'm not able to reconcile these things. I try to, but I can't. I hope it's just because I'm a stupid kid, but I have a feeling it'll follow me around for the rest of my life, whenever I see an American flag.
I haven't properly explained myself yet, which I should do now:I'm seventeen, as I mentioned before. I'm going to vote in the next election, in November. I won't vote for John McCain. I'll do this not because I don't like him. I think it's an absurd and stupid thing to hinge your vote on whether or not you like the person. I'll do this because I am genuinely distrustful of everything he says, now. He's said disgusting and frightening things about the border, national security, Iraq and Ahmadinejad. He's gotten President Bush's endorsement, and Bush has been quoted to say that he'll only endorse somebody who'll carry the invasion of Iraq into another term. And I'm also concerned that he'll die in office, and leave us with a successor who says even more frightening and disgusting things, and does them. I'll also do this because that most of the big things the Republican party has touched, the military, justice, freedom of speech, have died nasty, public deaths, and I don't want to see any more of those.
I will vote for a Democrat. I just hope there is a Democrat still worth voting for, which is an uncertainty, even this late on in the game. This will be the first vote I ever cast.
I'm dismayed and unhappy about that. I feel that a very large part of my future, and the future of my homeland, has been decided for me, before I had a say in anything that happened. And now, just as President Bush leaves an office he didn't deserve, I inherit a vote for a country stained in ways it doesn't deserve. I'm allowed to cast a vote the way I know I would've for eight years. Even as a small child, I wished it wouldn't happen like this, but it did. I don't know how much education I have. I assume it's not much. (I know this makes me look like a stupid kid, but it's important.)
I'd like to ask another question: What do Islamofascists hate so much about America? Do they hate that we've had good luck and spoiled ourselves on privilege, while they were hungry and without good shelter and education? Have they been brainwashed by their Imams? Do they receive training from birth to hate freedom, maybe with cheeseburgers and John Phillip Sousa and big Pavlovian shock machines attached to their fingertips? I know it sounds absurd, but you make such a big deal about it, like every day in every major city there's an Islamofascist with a bomb strapped around his chest, his finger on the pull-cord, ready to kill us all and our children if we don't invade the privacy we've already guaranteed to people, even if they have dark skin and funny names.
I would also like to ask you about the name, Islamofascists. As I said, I'd rather call them assholes, because it does the same work with less syllables. I also don't like the fear-mongering implications of the word. George Orwell observed that Fascism with a capital F has lost all its meaning, as a word, and is generally used as a put-down, an end-all word of accusation in political debates. He said this shortly after the end of World War II. I think it was 1946, or 48. I'm not sure.
I'll try not to confuse fascism with capital-F Fascism when I ask this. In what way do the Islamofascists resemble the Nazis? Germany, Japan and Italy are all nations, upon which you can declare war. Terrorism is a noun. I'm sure this is not something you haven't answered before, but I haven't heard this answer, and have none except: They're our declared enemy, they hate Jews, and they believe they're killing for the betterment of God's creation. But Fascism? I don't know. I don't think anybody does, and I believe the term is just a thing people use to drum up thoughts of red and black flags and angry, hateful speeches made from underneath a short moustache.
You also said somewhere that a liberal is a believer in fairy tales, and that you were fine with liberals being liberals, but that if left alone, they would seize power and barge into your living room, guns drawn, bayonets drawing beads of blood from under your naked chin, demanding money to fund the maintenance of their fairy tales. I don't agree with you, not because I'm a liberal, but because I'm an American. I think that some of the things the liberals are saying- that we shouldn't trade off our security for our freedom, nor should we compromise either of those things at all, and that the United States had ought to start living up to its promises of life, liberty and a fair shake at happiness, after neglecting its duty for eight years under a President who wasn't actually elected- aren't treasonous, not because I'm a liberal, but because I'm an American. I agree that there are some idiotic liberals who take things too far, like there are some idiotic conservative republicans. But to use the word to incite hatred and suspicion, like you have, is to distract from the good thing about liberals, which lies at the root of the word: Liberty. It's important. I don't think it's a fairy tale. This I also believe because I'm an American.
I hope nothing of what I say sounds stupid. I'm trying to be sincere. I don't believe what conservatives say about danger being everywhere. Well, I do, but I don't believe it's where they say it is. They say that danger is a terrorist with a bomb in his jacket. I believe that, but I don't see any here, in the United States, yet. I don't think the danger for us comes from blown up movie theaters or anthrax or airports or nuclear devices. I believe it comes from inside. I believe people in positions of power will do whatever will keep them in power, even if it goes against oaths they took when they assumed those positions of power. I don't think the fallout from their actions has been in the air long enough for us to feel the effects immediately, but we probably will. It'll happen slowly. We'll probably start to see people with bombs in their jackets, but I don't think they'll all have dark skin.
This is stupid of me, to start fear-mongering of my own while denouncing that of others, but I just want to give a good explanation of myself. That's basically it. I don't expect you to answer any of my questions. I'm a conservative like that.
I hope you don't praise me for being well-spoken or any crap like that, or for listening to your radio show. But if you do, I'll probably just say thanks and leave it at that. There's not much else you can say in such a situation.
I'd also like to thank you for all the music you play between segments. I like the blues, though the classical rock you play makes me think about some high school kids I still know, some of whom are confused like me. It makes me glad to think that. No matter what happens to us, the music will be alright. Kurt Vonnegut said that.
Regards,
Sam Virzi
I hope you do not think I am a stupid kid. I know many people who believe this, and a few of those people are in my own family, which is a distracting and embarrassing thing to have happen to you, even as a small child. I believe I have to properly explain myself before continuing on to the real point of this letter, which is to ask a few questions to you. When I was a child, I thought that America was like a baseball team. It had to win, every time, like the New York Yankees, or it would fall on hard times and never win again, like it has for the past eight years. If it began a losing streak, it would flounder expensively on the stockroom floor, buying A-rods and Jeters and firing its bedrock from under its feet, expending all the good luck it had acquired over its strong years, until only bare tatters of its formerly glorious standard remained. I was thinking about this today, in the context of what you recently said about the Islamofascists. (I dislike the term. I think it would be much more direct to call them assholes.)
You said that since Barrack Obama's middle name is "Hussein," which means "handsome" in Arabic, he should be open to a higher level of scrutiny over his past, and that anybody disagreeing with you on the matter of racial profiling is a moron. You said it in such a way that discouraged those that disagreed with you as believers in a fairy-tale of tolerance and equality and egalitarianism, a blanket of idealism which would burn up like a tissue on a hot coal if exposed to reality.
Which leads us to our first real disagreement, which is about the human species.
I'm going to have to rely on a hypothetical situation, now. I hate to do it, because I risk coming off as a stupid kid again, but that's the dice I'm handed. Say you're on the lookout for a suspected terrorist. You don't know who he is, exactly, only that his skin is dark. To find out who he is, exactly, you'll have to intrude upon his constitutional rights against search and seizure, invade the space the law provides him. And you'll have to do it to many people, throw your net wide to catch this one fish. Now you have a dilemma: do unpardonable harm to the rights of your fellow citizens, or get an asshole away from those he'd like to harm.
I believe the former is probably worse than the results of the latter. I believe the harm we can do to ourselves at least equals, if not outweighs, the harm others can do to us. In spite of our efforts to quantify and color-code it, the danger posed by possible terrorist attacks will always be an unknown. What is known is how much we've hurt ourselves. Terrorists haven't destroyed our Constitution, mocked the rule of law or frightened us into complicity nearly as effectively as our own leaders have. I also know that the hypothetical situation has probably happened on a very large scale to a very large number of people with dark skin. The fact that there is a PATRIOT Act virtually guarantees it.
I don't know if my belief in all this will turn to ash like a tissue paper on burning reality, the way you guarantee it will. I'm not proud enough to want it not to, just for the sake of saying "I told you so." But I don't think abandoning the single important, unique thing about the people of the United States when faced by an ungracious and hateful few is prudent or helpful to American interests. I'm sure you'll quote Jesus in some absurd way, about searching after the one lost sheep and leaving the ninety and nine.
I'm kind of a college student. In English, we read "Young Goodman Brown," by Nathaniel Hawthorne. In the story, Brown is shown all of his neighbor's sins and flaws and evils, all the things they had hidden before. In reaction to this, he becomes a sick, spiteful, unattractive man. He loses all respect for his friends, and is generally distrustful of all those around him. He loses faith in people he once looked up to. He dies unhappily.
I would now like to ask you two questions: When an American Congress passes a law that deprives its constituency of the rights they took an oath to protect, what does it mean?
And: When a truck full of Blackwater mercenaries drives through an Iraqi neighborhood and opens fire without any discretion towards civilian bystanders, what does it mean?
I only ask because I have no idea. And I'm seventeen now, and will be eighteen very soon, and will have the right to vote, and don't want to do this with my eyes closed to these important questions. (Again I acknowledge that I might look like a stupid kid; those who ask don't know, etc.)
Here is an attempt to answer them. There are two possibilities:
1) It means nothing. What happened in both instances was the result of nebulous concepts and circumstances beyond my ken and far beyond my control. The real truth is that the extent of my control over anything concerning American government, a single vote, probably could not have kept any of those circumstances from forming. (It wouldn't have in 2000, though I was ten years old at the time, and sorely unable to vote. The same for 2004. I was fourteen. It was a frightening and dismaying state of affairs.)
2) It means everything. My vote should've done something to discourage the war, the assault on civil liberties, and the people who wanted it all. They should've listened to myself and nearly half of all voting Americans in both 2000 and 2004 who had second thoughts about murdering everything good and special about America.
Both these answers assume that, had I a vote to cast when I was ten and fourteen years old, I would've cast it for Gore and Kerry, both times, and against George W. Bush, both times. And both are finally irrelevant, I suppose, because we're still in Iraq, and the first, fourth and fifth Amendments have been gravely injured, maybe irreparably.
I hope you can answer these questions, because I cannot. I also hope that you can find some kind of middle ground between these answers, because I cannot. I'm not able to reconcile these things. I try to, but I can't. I hope it's just because I'm a stupid kid, but I have a feeling it'll follow me around for the rest of my life, whenever I see an American flag.
I haven't properly explained myself yet, which I should do now:I'm seventeen, as I mentioned before. I'm going to vote in the next election, in November. I won't vote for John McCain. I'll do this not because I don't like him. I think it's an absurd and stupid thing to hinge your vote on whether or not you like the person. I'll do this because I am genuinely distrustful of everything he says, now. He's said disgusting and frightening things about the border, national security, Iraq and Ahmadinejad. He's gotten President Bush's endorsement, and Bush has been quoted to say that he'll only endorse somebody who'll carry the invasion of Iraq into another term. And I'm also concerned that he'll die in office, and leave us with a successor who says even more frightening and disgusting things, and does them. I'll also do this because that most of the big things the Republican party has touched, the military, justice, freedom of speech, have died nasty, public deaths, and I don't want to see any more of those.
I will vote for a Democrat. I just hope there is a Democrat still worth voting for, which is an uncertainty, even this late on in the game. This will be the first vote I ever cast.
I'm dismayed and unhappy about that. I feel that a very large part of my future, and the future of my homeland, has been decided for me, before I had a say in anything that happened. And now, just as President Bush leaves an office he didn't deserve, I inherit a vote for a country stained in ways it doesn't deserve. I'm allowed to cast a vote the way I know I would've for eight years. Even as a small child, I wished it wouldn't happen like this, but it did. I don't know how much education I have. I assume it's not much. (I know this makes me look like a stupid kid, but it's important.)
I'd like to ask another question: What do Islamofascists hate so much about America? Do they hate that we've had good luck and spoiled ourselves on privilege, while they were hungry and without good shelter and education? Have they been brainwashed by their Imams? Do they receive training from birth to hate freedom, maybe with cheeseburgers and John Phillip Sousa and big Pavlovian shock machines attached to their fingertips? I know it sounds absurd, but you make such a big deal about it, like every day in every major city there's an Islamofascist with a bomb strapped around his chest, his finger on the pull-cord, ready to kill us all and our children if we don't invade the privacy we've already guaranteed to people, even if they have dark skin and funny names.
I would also like to ask you about the name, Islamofascists. As I said, I'd rather call them assholes, because it does the same work with less syllables. I also don't like the fear-mongering implications of the word. George Orwell observed that Fascism with a capital F has lost all its meaning, as a word, and is generally used as a put-down, an end-all word of accusation in political debates. He said this shortly after the end of World War II. I think it was 1946, or 48. I'm not sure.
I'll try not to confuse fascism with capital-F Fascism when I ask this. In what way do the Islamofascists resemble the Nazis? Germany, Japan and Italy are all nations, upon which you can declare war. Terrorism is a noun. I'm sure this is not something you haven't answered before, but I haven't heard this answer, and have none except: They're our declared enemy, they hate Jews, and they believe they're killing for the betterment of God's creation. But Fascism? I don't know. I don't think anybody does, and I believe the term is just a thing people use to drum up thoughts of red and black flags and angry, hateful speeches made from underneath a short moustache.
You also said somewhere that a liberal is a believer in fairy tales, and that you were fine with liberals being liberals, but that if left alone, they would seize power and barge into your living room, guns drawn, bayonets drawing beads of blood from under your naked chin, demanding money to fund the maintenance of their fairy tales. I don't agree with you, not because I'm a liberal, but because I'm an American. I think that some of the things the liberals are saying- that we shouldn't trade off our security for our freedom, nor should we compromise either of those things at all, and that the United States had ought to start living up to its promises of life, liberty and a fair shake at happiness, after neglecting its duty for eight years under a President who wasn't actually elected- aren't treasonous, not because I'm a liberal, but because I'm an American. I agree that there are some idiotic liberals who take things too far, like there are some idiotic conservative republicans. But to use the word to incite hatred and suspicion, like you have, is to distract from the good thing about liberals, which lies at the root of the word: Liberty. It's important. I don't think it's a fairy tale. This I also believe because I'm an American.
I hope nothing of what I say sounds stupid. I'm trying to be sincere. I don't believe what conservatives say about danger being everywhere. Well, I do, but I don't believe it's where they say it is. They say that danger is a terrorist with a bomb in his jacket. I believe that, but I don't see any here, in the United States, yet. I don't think the danger for us comes from blown up movie theaters or anthrax or airports or nuclear devices. I believe it comes from inside. I believe people in positions of power will do whatever will keep them in power, even if it goes against oaths they took when they assumed those positions of power. I don't think the fallout from their actions has been in the air long enough for us to feel the effects immediately, but we probably will. It'll happen slowly. We'll probably start to see people with bombs in their jackets, but I don't think they'll all have dark skin.
This is stupid of me, to start fear-mongering of my own while denouncing that of others, but I just want to give a good explanation of myself. That's basically it. I don't expect you to answer any of my questions. I'm a conservative like that.
I hope you don't praise me for being well-spoken or any crap like that, or for listening to your radio show. But if you do, I'll probably just say thanks and leave it at that. There's not much else you can say in such a situation.
I'd also like to thank you for all the music you play between segments. I like the blues, though the classical rock you play makes me think about some high school kids I still know, some of whom are confused like me. It makes me glad to think that. No matter what happens to us, the music will be alright. Kurt Vonnegut said that.
Regards,
Sam Virzi
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
