Wednesday, August 17, 2005
drum machines walking around
You think you understand things, then it all falls apart. Like, Kanye. I was just starting to get used to the idea of possibly not talking to you anymore, just deleting your emails, those weird phone messages about "diamond-studded pancakes" and that new Rothko painting you bought. I was tired of hearing about it. No more magazine covers, Doors samples or 800 dollar jeans. Kanye, I was ready to move on.
Then.
You have to call up Jon Brion.
And now: I can't help but prance around like its a musical outside , telling the world what a good person you are--oh, he's a great at Bridge, he really loves kittens, you should have seen him as a boy, he even made a building out of drum machines in Chicago.
Late Registration ain't even in the mailbox yet, either.
