I...can't....speak...right...now.
Can I get back later?
No.
Sometimes, it's too late to get back.
I hate it when it's too late.
I hate it when people don't get back.
I hate hate.
I got a really encouraging mail from one of the biggest record labels around.
They wanted to know more about blood music.
They wanted to hear more too...
And I was surprised. How come they care?
I was a bit moved, by the fact.
But I haven't answered them.
And now it's been quite some time.
I just don't know why, but I can't find one single word to write them.
I guess, I like the fact that they cared and was interested.
And I'm fine with that.
I don't want to send them things and then hear nothing from them.
Where's the self confidence when you need it?
I don't know, I'm not myself these days.
I'm thinking of quitting playing music.
There's already too many people doing it and there's too many dreamers being frustrated by things not going in the right directions...
I want to do music which makes a difference.
Exciting and not predictable.
But I'm not sure I am walking that path.
And if I'm not, can I go back and do it all over again?
Oh, these words are not making any sense at all.
I wish I lived in a house by the sea.
Not in need of anything.
Not dreaming of achieving things.
Not searching for things.
Just content.
Taking each day as it comes.
And i wouldn't care about my hair getting grey and my belly getting bigger...
I would feed the birds and write a postcard or two to dear and beloved friends.
And not spend all my days in front of the computer.
What's the matter with me?
I hope the feeling is gone when I wake up in the morning.
