AMF 2012 and South Korea.

It's been awhile. Facebook statuses render minute and inconsequential blog posts obsolete, though the inconsequentials are eventually what conglomerate into the consequential. Or something. Or Facebook About Mes. I thought I had untouchable pocket rockets once, but big slick under the gun nailed Broadway on the river. Now I'm on tilt.

Imply what you will. She was all that.

Atlantic Music Festival; like that vast ocean of total hedonism that self-generates high school drama by disguising the idiotic with a shroud of beautiful music that seems to endlessly provide life with a cheesy soundtrack. Think Copland meets Enya. Punctuation makes perfect - he said/she said. He said, "she said"! He said she "said". The era of the man child runs amok through the hilly paths of Waterville, ME, where one summer screams at the other pitiful fifteen through the hoards and masses of still-tonal composers and begs the human soul to tangibly feel. Refusal.

In Korea now, again. Just started. Feeling at home. Seoul, like single-malt scotch, functions identically to other escape routes from a year that has changed your life.

If I added the word "forever" to that last sentence, I'd be a douche. So I didn't.