About

We could send letters m4w I've posted here before, each months apart, blathering on forever so I'll try to keep this short and somewhat anonymous.

I guess I'm going through my euro-trash/starving artist phase. When I'm not working or in class I'm playing shows, writing, or wishing I had money to spend besides on cigarettes and gas.

I think of all the names in all the histories and wonder of the bit magic they had written on their hearts, and if I'm somehow capable of it.
I want to live, as time has shown, but the spontaneity in my life is gone.

I'm one of those people who will drive fucking anywhere with the right company if we can manage it, no matter what the hour. I'll drink at the beach after the dark until the cops give us our final warning. I'll argue about music, or philosophy, or politics until we clench our fists so hard in anger that we're done for that night.

Find me.

Her ideal person

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