steve

there was a musician who hated me. i didn’t know it until one time outside the Cameron in the rain, we were both standing near the door staying dry and he leaned in and told me that he really wanted me to know something – he hated me and i was an asshole, something like that. then he left, made a sandwich and got a good night’s sleep. we didn’t have any sort of relationship where we hung around each other. my guess was he despised me for things that never happened like never acting in awe of his talent. sometimes i’m just like him, wanting to tell someone off rooted in imaginary narratives like i will feel complete if i get my fantasy. more often than not i put it in song instead [as do some of my fave fellow assholes].

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