We (finally) got a copywriter at work today. After a couple initial meetings and some chatting it seems like she’ll be a good fit, if for no other reason the mind of a writer seems to work so much differently than mine and that’s why it’s always excellent to work with a writer on any sort of project. (And probably why I always am a sucker for a writer?) Best ideas abound and I think I’m going to be able to let loose on some cool things soon enough. (Like creating a brand.) (Which is insane.)

Then I got home and realized that my job is the thing I’m most excited about in life right now. And just how sad that is, I guess. Life is so askew of where I want it to be, where I thought I could take it. Rebuild rebuild, but still. But still.

It’s getting darker earlier. It’s staying cold, but getting colder. It’s going to be a long, lonely fall. Straight to winter, straight to the bottom.

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It’s nights like these that make me sleep all day. It’s nights like these that make you feel so far away. It’s nights like these that nothing is for sure. It’s nights like these I don’t want you anymore.

Now I’ve only got this one wish; that I was good enough to make you forget the only boy who ever broke your heart, ’cause nights like these tear me apart.

It’s nights like these the saddest songs don’t help. It’s nights like these your heart’s with someone else. It’s nights like these I feel like giving up. It’s nights like these I don’t seem to count for much.

Beer tastes like blood. My mouth is numb and I can’t make the words I need to say. She had a weakness for writers, and I, I was never that good with words anyways.

Always the fight. One of these days I’ll win one.