wait just found a remix of drugs or me
I will never stop loving Jimmy Eat World. What else am I supposed to love when driving through a sleeping city through flat, intermittent light, if not Futures? What will make me feel like the horizon is attainable if not Clarity? How could I understand love and rage without Bleed American? Dreams without Chase This Light? And Invented? How else do people grow into themselves, and understand...
I woke up today and: read hemingway remembered that i liked reading pieced together a complicated dream that should be/will be the plot to my next novel remembered that i liked writing graduated college drank ate drank swam the crim dell good day.
From this I reach which I might call a philosophy; at any rate it is a constant...– —Virginia Woolf, “A Sketch of the Past” (1939) (one of the epigraphs of my thesis)