now i see why people get addicted. the show's over, everyone's gone home. and it's so fucking quiet. i'm tired, so tired, but i want to keep playing. i want a woman, and a cigarette, and some alcohol. on the top of a warehouse, like i was telling her.



summer's over.



bekki called, we talked. things are good.



some people showed up for the show tonight, not as many as last time, but everyone was into it, and no one was yelling "Freebird!" or "jack the ripper." played the new guitar today for the first time.



taylor had a migraine, and dave had allergies. but they played anyway. they rule. i'm lucky to have them as friends. they bear with me, through all the stupid stuff i do.