Home again, I sat at the kitchen table as usual, drinking a beer and listening to music on the radio. It then occurred to me that I wanted to talk to someone - about the weather, about political stupidity; it didn’t matter what. I just wanted to talk to somebody, but I couldn’t think of anyone, not one person I could talk to. I didn’t even have the cat.
Haruki Murakami - The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (via murakamistuff)
It happens sometimes.
This hasn't really cohered yet. Sometimes I post songs, sometimes I spout off about movies and comics. One time I wrote a restaurant review and that was fun. Maybe I'll do that again.
