Lies.

Extreme rage/anger enshrouds logical thought [slash] pain like the fog from the grapevine on highway 5 hides the beauty of the life of L.A.

In twelve hours, I play a recital (for seriously, artistically-minimum-wage) of Schumann's Fantasy Pieces; mostly about subjects of love or the like.

Trying desperately to prevent rage and anger from consuming me.

Failing.

But on another note, Dave/Jerry/Allen come over tomorrow to roast wild boar from Texas (kill from a random-hunting-vacation) on my outdoor grill. Life is still good.