11:11

Yass yass, it has been some time now, I know. I've been busy corresponding with a burlesque dancer that lives in the UK. She is beautiful. Her night is my day, my day is her night. Even now, I have little to offer you. Nothing feels the same since my illness. I have recovered, but everything is different. Cigarettes have no flavor, no appeal. I drink, but nothing seems to happen. There's no giddy laughter, no dancing at 3am with the radio on. I show up at shows coughing and quiet, the party swirls around me, and I sit silent. I get on stage and go absolutely mad for a half hour straight, put my instrument in its case, and go home to sleep.

I welcome the oppressive nature of the rain. It is constant in these times of short days and round the clock headlights. The streets are louder than usual, with cars running their tires along a thin film of water at high speeds. I find myself yelling to be heard in the morning as the 15 Downtown approaches. The rain drips off my clenched fist as I count house numbers, finding my way to a place I have never been. I want to save the occupants, take them away from this place, sooth their souls, love their hearts, warm their bodies. Make it all go away...