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The Truth Wanders From The Lips Of Lost Souls before/after Mmmmh. So, I dropped acid last night. Seemed like the thing to do. Lots of fun. Emoted with my guitar, which sometimes I wonder if this is my last link to the Pure Truth, that dowdy subjectivity that some people make it out to be, to suit their needs and issues. Sometimes I feel like I'm saving my soul. Producing one good thing. Sometimes I feel like I draw wandering spirits into the room, for a bit of the One Old Song, and its touches of comfort and taste. I can barely see or sense them, so far on the fringes of life, but I feel them, some dancing around in a circle around me, like Indians. Some simply sitting and listening. Some bending down to give me a kiss on the forehead. I generally draw the living as well. The girls two houses down sat on their porch and listened. And after I stopped playing, I kept hearing the riffs in my head, plain as day. Pure bliss, I'm tellin' ya. Pure bliss.
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