murdering time, is more like it.

strung out on deathcab for cutie, nine inch nails. music is a drug in this weather.

i commute to ballard every night, crossing over the locks into that north seattle burough comprised of nothing but sweedes, art dealers, and weathered old sailors- you know the kind, knapsacks and pipes and the whole nine yards of shipping line. the smell of fish and salt water is intoxicatingly nostolgic for me. i walk in the rain as the sun was sets over the sound, see this absolutely phychotic rainbow...

get to my basement of a rehearsal space...
live for awhile.
god, it's going to be a good debut.
wish you were here.