Perspective, Perspective, Perspective.

Sitting around in my cluttered room now; the night is nearly over for me. I look about the room, not seeing much, since the only light comes from my screen and a small reading lamp in front of me on the desk. The desk is cluttered too, it seems. Old receipts, an alarm clock, Rod McKuen and Anne Sexton, my keys, a zippo light(my roommates, I recently lost mine) and various other dawdling of crap.

I turn off the Reigning Sound and turn on Belle and Sebastian; yes it is one of those nights.

I was supposed to meet a friend after band practice this evening. Yes, thats right, I play in a band. Didn't I tell you? Anyways, its nothing very interesting. I never feel inspired when the lyricist writes the lyrics after the melody has been made. Songs should be concepts. Everything else is like that. When a car manufacturer comes out with a new car they always call it a "concept." That's just what these songs are: concepts. With the exception of the most recent tune we've established, all these songs are full of lyrical nonsense. Too fucking abstract. Too fucking general, impersonal, fictional. Then again, what the hell do I know? I, the meager drummer and quiet, indifferent one of the group. I guess I don't put stock in much of anything these days. Not the women, not the music, not even the writers. Fuck. I know. I should drink more orange juice and go for a jog in the evening. I should change my perspective. Well, suck them titties. Maybe thats just what I'll do. But as it stands I am nearly broke, without a steady job, no motorcycle, no cigarette money, and the taste of lousy coffee in my mouth with a head full of bullshit coffee talk. What's a girl to do? Get vertically challenged.

-C.A. Dominick