My library, my music library, entrusted to the unreliable Apple programmers (that's right techie assholes, they are fallible), it comforts me. It’s comforting. I look at my music library, in its gargantuan beauty, and I’m comforted, even if it is just a little. 68.5 days worth of music. That’s 1.7125 lents worth of music, which is a long time. It’s well over 1 dog year. A dog could waste a year of its life and still not get through all of it. They would get to like, Stanley Clarke and have an identity crisis about the year they just wasted. And they wouldn’t even have heard Losing a Whole Year yet, so they wouldn’t have any song to express what they were going through. But out of all 21,803 songs here, not one is the right song for the feeling of having an injury that frustrates the sanity out of you, you miss the most amazing people in the world who are scattered across the state and even across the country, you can’t relate to anyone because you feel like an awkward boob, and you can’t sleep because your house is literally vibrating from all the partying going on everywhere. Everyone’s gone to the movies, and I’m stuck at home masturbating to a radio play. (What? What the hell is that even supposed to mean? That’s the most bizarre figure of speech I’ve ever heard anyone use…)
Gritty Reboot
I need to go to sleep for a really long time. Not like, a solid 8-10 hours of sleep or a straight 24 hour chunk or even a brief coma. I need to hibernate, or better yet be cryogenically frozen, and give my brain the chance to just reset itself, do a system restore. To mix my metaphors, if my brain were an artery, it would be clogged. It would be clogged by the largest greasiest lump of neural distraction cholesterol known to man.
My library, my music library, entrusted to the unreliable Apple programmers (that's right techie assholes, they are fallible), it comforts me. It’s comforting. I look at my music library, in its gargantuan beauty, and I’m comforted, even if it is just a little. 68.5 days worth of music. That’s 1.7125 lents worth of music, which is a long time. It’s well over 1 dog year. A dog could waste a year of its life and still not get through all of it. They would get to like, Stanley Clarke and have an identity crisis about the year they just wasted. And they wouldn’t even have heard Losing a Whole Year yet, so they wouldn’t have any song to express what they were going through. But out of all 21,803 songs here, not one is the right song for the feeling of having an injury that frustrates the sanity out of you, you miss the most amazing people in the world who are scattered across the state and even across the country, you can’t relate to anyone because you feel like an awkward boob, and you can’t sleep because your house is literally vibrating from all the partying going on everywhere. Everyone’s gone to the movies, and I’m stuck at home masturbating to a radio play. (What? What the hell is that even supposed to mean? That’s the most bizarre figure of speech I’ve ever heard anyone use…)
My library, my music library, entrusted to the unreliable Apple programmers (that's right techie assholes, they are fallible), it comforts me. It’s comforting. I look at my music library, in its gargantuan beauty, and I’m comforted, even if it is just a little. 68.5 days worth of music. That’s 1.7125 lents worth of music, which is a long time. It’s well over 1 dog year. A dog could waste a year of its life and still not get through all of it. They would get to like, Stanley Clarke and have an identity crisis about the year they just wasted. And they wouldn’t even have heard Losing a Whole Year yet, so they wouldn’t have any song to express what they were going through. But out of all 21,803 songs here, not one is the right song for the feeling of having an injury that frustrates the sanity out of you, you miss the most amazing people in the world who are scattered across the state and even across the country, you can’t relate to anyone because you feel like an awkward boob, and you can’t sleep because your house is literally vibrating from all the partying going on everywhere. Everyone’s gone to the movies, and I’m stuck at home masturbating to a radio play. (What? What the hell is that even supposed to mean? That’s the most bizarre figure of speech I’ve ever heard anyone use…)
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