sometimes, your morning doesn't work.

sometimes, your morning doesn't work. the happenings in the book you are reading are quite depressing. you go for a ride through the hills, but your blood sugar drops and you ride home slowly, feeling defeated. you are so fucking tired of doing the booking, calling the radio stations, writing the press, emailing other bands, printing the labels, etc., that you throw arms to the air. wouldn't it be grand if you had help? someone else made those dreaded calls for three hours several days a week. someone else walked to the post office and mailed off the packages. someone else spent their friday night putting stickers on discs. and why oh why oh why oh why oh why won't people book above the orange trees? i am confounded beyond my wildest imaginations. so you shower and move on through the day. the sun is out again, and it is hot. you wish you could go sit at the beach, and watch the waves curl in upon the shore. but joy is in you nonetheless, and you will let it breathe. breathe. breathe.

Posted by at October 8, 2002 12:02 PM

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