Assembling my chapters. Not just in the manuscripts, universally, all corners of the Now. The Grenache, spicier with each of the digital clock’s new red combinations. “I write too fast and too much they say, the next day offer me praise,” I said in one of the lines, in one of the first EP’s songs. Critics have so much to say, and how they adore hearing themselves saying it. Funny to me. Will go for a drive tomorrow, take a pic or two.
Couple more sips, and I’m done for the night. Watching this rare Tupac footage. That man’s fury is truly worthy of study, praise. I realize, that no matter how persistent I am with these words, scribbles, my additions will one day halt. There is no forever. Must keep up the contributions. Why breathe when I can write?