10-3
Drunk. Don't wanna write.
Biscuits and coffee for breakfast. Got caught in a torrential, apocalyptic downpour, so we sat and smoked cigarettes in a quiet little gas station until the storm subsided. I tried to steal a pack of cigarettes but was caught red-handed. Listened to Spiritualized in the van. Austin looked like Gotham City; owlish skyscrapers shrouded in mist and moonlight. Mild anxiety attack, mild claustrophobia. Watched pretty girls strut down the avenue. On the guestlist for the Queers show in an outdoor venue. It took me three tries, just now, to remember how to write a capital, cursive "q". Still not sure if I used the correct form of "capital". Capitol? I smoke too much weed, it dampens my vernacular fire. Danced with an anonymous punk rock girl during "Punk Rock Girls". Yummyyummypunkrockgirls. Bonded over Townes Van Zandt with some locals. More free beer. Tonight we're staying with a very sweet goth-nerd couple who have promised us grilled grass-fed locally-raised Texas hamburgers tomorrow. They're super-sweet. Mind the coyotes outside.
Oh, no one has to know
We'll tiptoe around the crows
and the lilacs
Drunk. Don't wanna write no more.
My ears are never gonna stop ringing.
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