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About

This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

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I'm Gish. I guess this is what one can call the remnants of a pre-mid-life crisis. I listen to too much music and read too many books, and it all means nothing. Abrasive, I smoke too much, drink too much coffee and hardly sleep. Alive. Be sure to check out the new links to blogs, photos, music and other sorts of good stuff at the very bottom of the page.

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Stamped: 12:25 AM

I wonder...how many times will anyone listen to the same sort of bullshit another person spews forth.
I wonder...what is the breaking point.
I wonder...if I've already exceeded the limit for what people are willing to put up with, when it comes to me.

The man in B.C can't talk, his mouth unable to open or close because of another in a series of painful dental visits. I guess not even email is worth staying awake for, for that I can understand.

Number 1, awoken from a sound sleep to listen to the sound of tears slipping down my face as I yet again, was unable to articulate what the problem is.

Craig, a long lecture on the telephone tonight about drugs, and giving up pretenses and just letting love happen to me.

One last email sent to the Apostle, imploring for an explanation to our farce of a friendship.

and still, I feel like I'm sealing my words into a large jar, never to be heard by anyone.

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