It's strange. It's all so strange and surreal that John Mayer hadn't been lying. What was he, 22, when he recorded some song that said just that. This is a guessing game. It's all a guessing game. I would love to hang out with all of my friends for a couple more years. I would love to beat all present and future video games and sample every new doritos flavor while I'm at it. Wouldn't that be glorious? I don't yet have a reason to cultivate my garden. Why should I?
I have to live this out. I have to work. You have to work or scam, or whatever, it doesn't matter. The buck stops here. I didn't realize the buck was arbitrary and so was my idea of here, but here it is. This is the end, my friends, maybe that's too personal. This is the end.
I write this only to mean that I have to do something tomorrow.
I have a song by Company of Thieves, The Dead Weather and Broken Bells all running, panting in my head together. Riffs and shouts bang out. I wonder sometimes about when I'll stop searching for new music, when I'll give up on the radio and cling to my discs and digital downloads from when I was eighteen.
Stephen Colbert is figur'd out. I was watching the Report and biking on a stationary. I figured it out. It makes sense why Stephen Colbert has a sizable audience and has received so much praise. Two things: He speaks baby talk. His interviews are hilarious because they are so ignorant, but not everyone thinks he's ignorant. He might be a truth-teller. He's not. He's a satirist. He dumbs down information to a liquid form, real issues, but sometimes lets got of highbrow steam. His liquefactioning of information makes it perfect satire, though. Score one for South Carolina.
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