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psyched


its a cool feel on set. There’s harassment, perpetual explanations, dissertations, costume changes….grey skies instead of sun…its better….fast, spit it out young man, it will never be right, I guarantee it. This god damn illusion, its working backwards, fuck thank the gods its actually working. No democracy. Its the unilateral I, the sarcophagus in the sky. I try to form cubes and other dimensional shapes, they labour on about tea stained rags and union breaks theres rain theres bank accounts and breaks….theres hate and smite and wrong cues and dirty snags. And its so boring if you’re not in that zone. When the caterer runs out of coffee and the wardrobe dept is asleep, and you know theres a glass red wine being poured by a ghost while the dp dances for a while thats when I leave its when its best to leave…cause returning is never easy and its always over before you leave me

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One Comment

  1. love this, alot


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