Seven 26-29

press play first for a very shoegazery soundtrack while reading this.


Ghost Train video

Thrushes | MySpace Music Videos



It happened two weeks ago. Thursday was a bad day when panic stabbed my eyes out with its sorry, pathetic edge:

Out in the LBC the night before (Wednesday) seeing happy bands play happy music with my happy friends and happily I went along standing on a bus bench afterwards watching the cops speed by. It was 65 degrees if not warmer, even at 3AM. We sobered up (I didn't drink) with Del Taco where my friends took my car for a spin around the parking lot without me.

Thursday morning 4 or 5 am writing. The sun raw rays were waking and the traffic starts to thicken in the morning broth of Glendale and Sunset Blvd. The throttle of idling buses traveled up the hill into my building and I want to taste the work commute again like warm apple pie that crumbles within the cinnamon ether. Without a purpose in my day or a person to spend it with, I am cold to the music that was playing on my headphones. I went to bed.

Panic woke me up every three hours for the following 3 nights I tried to closed my eyes. My door never opened. My phone did not ring. I didn't type any thoughts on this blog. I did not exist those days. Blankness.

Sometime Monday I showered the days off my skin, threw out the trash, cleaned a dirty by my standards apartment and started the job search again. The urge to press play on the stereo returned and life continued on.


I decided to have my glasses fixed no matter the cost.

Video: Thrushes - Ghost Train

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