in lieu of an actual entry, here is more bad internet poetry, specially for dan, cause he requested it at insomnia and i played lousy songs instead.

this enygmatic petty bullshit
is the knife that brings you down
you'll never get back into the light
the sunshine that you'd found
and oh you trip so slowly
across the waking waves of the world
trying to find access to the backstage
of life & love & blood & bone
& things you took for granted
never, love
answers, none
you're set to soar the skies.

i figured this was better than talking about moving again. which i'm supposed to start the first leg of in an hour or two. but i'll probably do that anyhow.