Youth and Beauty Screeches Into the Face of Ugliness (A Quiet Night, No Dogs)

It's one of those nights where I can't sleep and it's too late and cold to go anywhere. If this were some months ago I'd probably be on King St. waiting for the sun to rise over everything, but I'm in my living room, tired but not sleepy, wanting to feel creative and coming up short. I wrote a new song tonight, that I'll probably show Graham as soon as possible. Also Arbeau, but I especially enjoy the look on Graham's face when he really enjoys a tune of mine.
It probably is as funny to you (assuming this is ever read) as it is to me that I have created a blog. A while back I created one for Exclamation Marx, but posted twice and forgot about it. Fair enough; the hip-hop obsession has been waning and has once again been replaced with Pete Doherty and many literary greats. I would like a coffee, but the hookers and crackheads have forced the Waterloo Tim's to close it's doors at night. Perhaps I'll stay up to watch the sun rise and walk down to wake myself up, then I'll walk back and perhaps finally get some sleep. I most likely will not do any of those things.
The Invisible Hands are preparing for a show sometime in May, and I've been spreading the word as much as possible. I'm going away to Montreal soon to see Ryan graduate from his basic army training, and am looking forward to the trip.
I feel like saying something poetic but I can't think of anything. The mastery with which Ellis conveys the emotions, habits and priorities of his characters is impressive (that wasn't my poetic thing, but merely an observation).
I'm going to start drinking. If only to be more like Hemingway and Thompson, and to prepare myself for touring, which I can only assume will be riddled with excess. True rock n' roll hooligans, free-spiriting province to province on a mission for success of some kind in a moronic rock industry whose giants have been losing money. I figure the mathematics behind our success can't fail. If nothing else, we will have pissed away youth and beauty through drugs, alcohol, cigarettes and hostile-pop. The whole thing is so romantic. Anyway, I'll leave you to your....et cetera.