hello rush of creativity, my old friend.
I've pushed through this hideous writers block, finally. Last night on my half hour break, i ended up sitting in my car with a mix tape made for me a few years ago (i love you, you know) that is a beautiful shade of melancholy, some Silk Cut and Salinger's 'Dear Esme, with love and squalor' and it just sort of clicked.
I've spent this afternoon with Dylan, Cohen and Apple (the masters as far as I'm concerned), an old, old notebook and a trusty acoustic and a piano. I got pen marks all over my hands and my feet got numb from being sat on, but I'm just really, really happy.
Note to self: never forget that you're no one's protegee, and you don't need that stamp of approval you've been chasing after. (ps. the raspberry beret looks as good as Prince said it would) I've got a kick out of being independant, in ways I don't think I've ever been before. Things are a'changing, and it still hurts, but I have the most incredible and most inspiring friends around me, and they're pushing me forwards.