thoughts still fleeting towards modernism.

today i sit here, after staying up an entire evening finishing a paper about intertextual cinema and the western influence and appearance of that influence in the films of akira kurosawa's construction of images and words to form narrative with global significance and meaning.

law and order.

here is my secret:
the "new" album will drop, post-giddings.
the album before "the post giddings works" got rave reviews, i only heard back from one person who wanted to sell it for profit. my brother never told me what he thought about it.

but i'm promising a lot to myself this time, and i'll try not to compromise for the sake of time or meaning, but just make decisions for the piece as an entirity. what doesn't fit, doesn't fit.

i walk down the hallway to my bedroom, struggle to reach up to grab the handle and push the bedroom door open. my room is empty, the cars are scattered on my bed. i resume the world i was inhabiting with these metal cars and open space on my bed spread. we start businesses and share cups of sugar. i don't want to leave this place.
but i have to reattach to reality.
going to see my grandfather, the man who raised my father...and thats when its gets
dark
and the lines start to get
intertwined with
one another.