must have played this chord at least a thousand times now. waiting, patient, thinking it would bring me somewhere. still im sitting, wishing there was something more to say. here goes. a nervous, scribbling spider here has kept me company. our early sketches quietly evolve in chaos, back and forth, until a breeze commands our course to change. then back. we race our slack. im looking at a life of pulling teeth from nowhere, hurling all my baggage at defenseless notebooks, and left with only vices, friends, and puzzles to keep me sane for now i wait the crowd to face to face to twenty years and all ive learned is how to listen. and i still dont do it half the time i think i ought to. we all just talk too much. everyone thinks theyve got it figured out. well you dont. you cant. youre blind and im tired. so stop. slow down.
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