My wife says I’m angry. I say she’s angry. She says that’s just at her daughter, but it bleeds out into the rest of the world.
Mine does as well. I’m sick of other people.
I listen to A Wave Across The Bay and I want that for myself.
I want endless falling, never crashing, never landing, never ceasing to exist, but never engaging again.
Endless travel, free of care, free of responsibility.
When Sartre says hell is other people, he might be on to a thing.
Target: 1600 words
Written: 1721 words, novel: Father Lightning
Read: On Love, Charles Bukowski
Comics: WildC.A.T.S. v6 8-11
Music: Flyin' The Flannel, FIREHOSE (I don't why it's listed in all caps)