I obviously need rest. If this is what the content of my mind looks like, I so bloody do. I wonder what people see in it. They find it beautiful. My woe is beautiful, an aesthetic pleasure is my mindache, but alas, this fortune I chose myself by picking up the brush.
I'd fancy a good tune, some tea and chocolate and something adventurous to light up my day- right NOW! And someone to cancel the concert tomorrow, my voice feels like shit. I spent the morning watching documentaries on rock singers and I'm envious like hell. It's not that I want my old band back, heavens, no! But I'd fancy finding people who'd like to make proper music with me.