The Fine Art of Falling Apart: Classic Gish

<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d33206271\x26blogName\x3dThe+Fine+Art+of+Falling+Apart\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dTAN\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://fineartoffallingapart.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://fineartoffallingapart.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d6081200608643811586', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe", messageHandlersFilter: gapi.iframes.CROSS_ORIGIN_IFRAMES_FILTER, messageHandlers: { 'blogger-ping': function() {} } }); } }); </script>

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.

Recent

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.

Archives

Classic Gish

Stamped: 11:06 PM

You say you wanna play Country but you're in a Punk Rock band...
Did I tell anyone that's my new favourite song? Have I sung along to it enough in the car, as I'm gliding along those endless ribbons of black highway?

I'm a hotel room in Timmins. Back here, getting ready for bed so I can get up early and catch a plane back to the nowhere world I live and work in. Looking forward to going back. Not looking forward to going back.

I already miss my family, despite all of the crisis' that have risen up over the past three weeks, I was still glad to be among blood.

Rose just posted a photo she took of me in the old days.

Sometimes, it's really nice to see the old me. Suddenly, I feel better.

Labels: Gish, myself, travelling

Leave a Reply

It seems like years ago. And like yesterday. This ... »

You can leave your response or bookmark this post to del.icio.us by using the links below.

Comment | Bookmark | Go to end

statistics