something to put off? check.
witching hour? check.
music without time/space associations bumped clandestinely? check.
time for facing uncomfortable truths.
is it writers block when you have ideas, but just don’t want them to leave you?
you know you’ve been listening to too much Feist when it impedes your ability to count up things at the end of the day:
"one, two, three, four, five, six, nine and ten, eleven… goddamnit."
… I need sunshine.
[un] surprisingly, have been listening to old prod. week playlists, moping a little. it’s still weird.