There is something coming. I can feel it. Like rain, where my son broke my pelvic bone and it aches in the damp, so I know. I don’t know what it is though. It/he/she is not in general circulation. For instance, to be specific, the cute bartender isn’t it, no matter that he remembers my name a couple weeks later like it was nothing. I look at him and I can’t imagine the raking of my teeth cross his shoulder in knowing, because I don’t remember his name in turn, and have to ask it again. I could go on with the instances of what it is not, and what masks it like air freshener over the smell of real air. It’s always like this.

Welp. 12.06

Meanwhile, Fort Erie Cognitive Dissonance ft. (They know all the words) playlist:

Eminem ft Nate Dog - Shake That (and good for yoga-no seriously)
Buckcherry- Crazy Bitch
Counting Crows – Mr. Jones (acoustic) [you would think the shift between those last two would give a person whiplash, eh?]