Late night chats with myself.
There's a place that she goes, given time...
I keep meaning to pick up this album just so I can have Martin's voice in my ears. I admit it, I miss the Tea Party and the shows. The backstage debauchery, the jokes, silly conversations, and the little rush I got from being so close to Stuart Chatwood (yeah, I had a crush for a little while).
It's late where I am. It's almost five in the morning. I went out with a low heart, low morale, thinking that my lack of morals finally hit rock bottom and nothing would raise them. Amazing what a little gin can do. Came back to the studio and started painting. Took some photos this evening, but nothing that touched me. Reached me.
I get mouthy when I'm brave. I left a loaded post on Punk Sud. I expect the children to be rousted by early morning. I just can't abide by ignorance. Except for my own.
Night, sweet things.
Butterfly - Jeff Martin
Monday, November 06, 2006 12:16:00 AM
I have no clue. I'll ask someone and get back to you. Glad you decided to keep me company.
:) top