Well shit. I looked down at the black tape spaghetti that used to be a hand crafted musical anthology of love and sentimentality. Like much of the romantic-y bits of my life, it was a hideous scrambled mess. Unlike most of the romantic-y bits of
You know you shouldn’t be smoking around the machine. Blah blah blah, delicate fancy balls film equipment and all. But you’re smoking around it anyway, even if you’re taking care to blow the smoke in the general direction of away. They’re unfiltered. Cowboy smokes. You
It’s cigarette smoke. Yeah, I’ll do a thing about cigarette smoke, maybe pull Freddy out again. Make fun of his accent, do a scene of cool cigarette smoking and some sort of wit and/or philosophy. That splotchy bit up top looks like a moon. Soooooo,
Maybe it was from the sea. Like those grainy old movies Dad and her watched.
09/09/2007 Image – Untitled
He hadn’t done the math.
The sun had gotten up a few hours ago. It had gotten a little under halfway through its trip to the other side of the world when the Prometheus drifted into the air above the town.