silveryscrape (silveryscrape) wrote,
silveryscrape
silveryscrape

Morning. Today I have to start the remix. Remind me in six hours when I'm spamming all of your journals incoherently, okay? Just a little intervention, that oughta do the trick. I promise not to rant about how you never loved me anyway and I just want to live my life. I'll try, anyway.


So, jchalo was asking for some Mazzy Star today, and in honor of Chris's sad music, I'd like to present So Tonight That I Might See:

unfortunately, when I moved from NM, I misjudged how much work would be involved in ripping 3,000 cds to my computer. stupid track titles. I don't even want to hear it, okay? right now I have approximately 2,947 songs called "track 1" on my harddrive

Track 1

Track 2

Track 3

Track 4

Track 5

Track 6

Track 7

Track 8

Track 9

Track 10



Just, shut up.




Also, cut for some naughty:

Yes, I used to be a little hippie chick, twirling through the living moonlight, stoned out of my gourd. Had to give that up in the high altitude plains of Taos, NM, because ACK! I CAN'T BREATHE. Seriously, it took me a long time to acclimate to being that high, and how ironic was it that I had to give up being that high to get there? But I remember, oh, yes, and the smell of the really righteous bud goes straight to the lizard part of my brain and makes me say "mmm." You know, the green, sticky, spicy, rich... never mind.

Well, I had a patient yesterday who I SWEAR was sneaking the smokeless tokes in his room, in between visits from staff. Every time I walked in there was like JAH! Rastafari. I think he was freaked about his chemo, actually, and I reckon I should have confronted him in some manner or another, because of the possibility of drug interactions and the dangers of having living buds around you when you have no immune system. But he's a very upright-seeming person, an older gentleman, very modest in his demeanor. I just couldn't figure out how to approach the situation. A strange dilemna, for certain.

Also, once in awhile I get these strong sense-memory flashbacks, like the complete feeling of something sweeping over me, a mood or a smell, a taste, a tingle. I'm still smelling the kind this morning. So, yeah, I didn't want to be putting him on the spot for what could have been, essentially, a freaky circuitry tangle of my own.

Would have been funny, though. Maybe I should have hit him with it anyway, to see the look on his face: "have you been smoking pot??" Hee!




In re: JC on the radio. Sigh. It just doesn't make sense to my mind, how completely fucking adorable he is. I worry about me.

All right, off to open a word file. Wish me luck. *gnaws fingerbone*
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