the highest point
Blogging from my cage. One by one we’re chained down to the ground. Just dragging a recording out from the debris to send out to the mailing list, needs work: It’s a bit weird.
Think I need to get the hell out of London. A house in the middle of nowhere where we can make noise all day and night and won’t be distracted… or is the grass just always greener somewhere else :/
I think I miss the road. I want to feel the fear again of going on stage. And the reluctance to leave it. I want to see familiar faces in the crowd, and get shitfaced and stumble around a town I don’t know. I want the scenery to change every day, and get paid in vodka and cheese and pickle rolls. I think maybe we should do a tour and try some new songs out.
hmmm.