well...i've run out of things to say. scratch that. i've run out of "acceptable" things to say. my bum existance doesn't provide for many suitable stories to tell her. and she writes most of her stuff in a blog, which only leaves chit chat to send me, trimmed for good riddance and sterility. and listening to a healthy dose of Radiohead only helps. and of course, even if all went according to plan, nothing could ever come of it. so there's nothing left to do except practice playing my guitar. there is only one way for this to be.