my hands smell like metal

you know what's ironic? everything.

there are times i sit on my bed in the dark with my guitar and nothing comes. no chord progressions i haven't already used, no words that rhyme or words that don't. and the irony is that when i sit down with my guitar and i turn the lights off it's because i think i've got something. that all i need to do is put my fingers to strings and close my eyes, and it should come.

but i guess it would be too easy if inspiration was predictable.

i am tired of saying and writing the same old shit. in fact, i'm tired of saying and writing how i'm tired of saying and writing the same old shit. i could sit down and write ten songs right now about breakups and the like but it's just fucking boring. then again what else is there to write about besides girls?

what else?

i'm kidding, i know there's other things. really. really really.

the point is, tonight i sat down with a heartful and then nothing came out. maybe i should just concentrate on finishing the songs that are already written. maybe that's the problem.