My boss got me into Kevin Pollak's Chat Show. I'm listening to the interview with The Swell Season. They are talking bout inspiration. I realize I sleep in muse poop. I wake at 9 and run to work. Table sitting pen in hand...I wall paint. yet mid sleep and dream I run through clouds and stir that stone with hidden meaning. Then down sloping it I let go? why oh when did madcap flight crash before take off? How is this car, through wall, still a hill top climber. Only upper level addmitence accepted as a blamible target.
Such sadness should rot deep with in, yet I'm all dried skin and then soft with in? What structure keeps this fresh? What when is the right time? What question kills the inosence?
I need white space in a non racial type of way...I need the pause for all the colors to come. I see such a sun rise cresting. the slow paced growth offers insight unbounding. steel this away. Deep I say deep with in a fold of safety. "that is not easy reading" he said and I'm right thinking "how do all these buttons work? what do they do to the screen and then to me?"
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