Sunday, August 31

Played until my fingers bled

There's something to be said for working so hard you go home covered in sweat, stinking like a cow's rear end. It's a sort of quaint satisfaction that you could never get from a day's work behind a desk. It makes you feel like you've really done something good with your day, like you've earned your stay in this world for another little while, like you're a real man who does things men are meant to do.

Either that or I'm just full of shit.

Yesterday I literally played guitar until my fingers bled.

That will be all kids. Until next time, ta-ta.

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