At This Point...

I'm so fucking manic, pouring every minute into a truly hopeful endeavor. It's dark here in this apartment and I've been sitting here forever. It's getting darker. The better the work, the more it takes out. So clearly, I'm destroyed. Reading and re-reading out loud to myself so often, I find I'm talking to myself when I step away, also often. My eyes are heavy, reaching for and through the screen. The feeling people like to attribute to the heart is nervous and afraid. I am fucking my computer. Constantly. Sometimes making love. It takes a lot out. Sigur Ros finish and iTunes moves onto Silversun Pickups, onto the video for Lazy Eye, which I again fall in love with...

Miss that. I think I need to turn some lights on. Find out what helps.