Weird.

So, a couple weeks ago my postie Paul asked me to tell his tape recorder a story.
So I went out to my quiet car and told the little machine about my Mom and my first car, Luhmberg.
The next week he gave me this story back on a CD, I didn't get around to listening to it until last night.
I was feeling really shitty because of dumb-boy-games and realized it was laying on my floor.
So I popped it into the CD player and plugged my headphones in...
I listened to my story, awed at how confused people must be if they heard it and how it didn't seem to carry out the emotion I actually felt of the story.
Then after my story was a slew of random other peoples stories, some cut and sewn together, overlapping each other.
Voices, noises, idle twanging on instruments, short stories, long stories, poems.
I laid and listened to all of it.
Dumbfounded at how comforting it was.
This guy at the post office... What does he do with himself!
What thought inspired him to take these pieces of life and staple them together to form this soundtrack, to give us those little peeps of others personalities and share them.
We are not alone.
He has inspired me to a degree, I'm not sure in what direction yet but it stopped my crying and put me to sleep with a smile on my face.
Thanks Paul.

HATE,
BWIT.