Book the Third, in which JoBiv expresses herself through song

Whilst painting two little boxes today, I put on some music in my mad cool, but sadly aging, stereo boom boxy thingama.

I can't really explain all the crap that's in my head. More than that, I really don't want to. I'm pretty sure I'll be ashamed of myself as soon as I say any of it, and therefore prefer to keep my mouth, and I guess my blog, shut.

Back to the living/dining/guest room/library/den, where I am painting, my whole body curled in over the tiny details. Even though I have my CDs shuffling at random after each song, two James songs come on in a row. They are two songs that ring in my ears when I feel like this, so it's funny that they came on like that. I've cut out all superfluous matter in these songs to share the two useful sections.

"These wounds
Are all self-imposed.
Life's no
Disaster."

"Don't need a shrink but an excorcist.
Stop stop talking 'bout who's to blame
When all that counts is how to change."

See why I enjoy James? I mean, besides that recorded-in-an-Australian-canyon sound. That's hot.

Anyway, I meant to say that I enjoy James because they kick my ass once in a while. Thank you, James, may I have another.