living on the breath of a hope to be shared

No one does abject loneliness as well as Bowie. No one. Wishing I could write songs like he does. Or sing. Or play an instrument. Or anything at his calibur of skill.


I had more to say, but it seems meaningless and trite next to Bowie's genius. Maybe I'd best go to bed, now.

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It's gone. No more. Bye bye.


Got my hair cut. It's up to 6 inches shorter at the longest parts. It's so much lighter now.



And I figured, hey, I'm losing everything else in my life, why not take some control over at least one thing?

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