i spend the likes of today listening to the few men of my life,

John Mayer, Teitur, Joe Firstman, Rufus Wainwright, Damien Rice, Jason Mraz, Belle and Sebastian, Elvis Costello, Jesse Malin, Ryan Adams,

and the lone, very-female Ani DiFranco

Funny that this works for me, only requiring the commitment of sounding records from my disc-drive, with the pull of colourful bills from my pocket and their unjealous nature of sharing the same slot in my machine.

I am tired of wanting things i cannot have, but yet the thought still entertains me at certain unnerving points of time.

What did i expect, you must say.

Only just another sick cycle carousel.

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