PureVolume

sun storms and a complete standstill in the center of the universe. what we have to look forward to is 8 days of the same. it is hard to comprehend the amount of cars on the road. it seems like if you drive 15 hours straight across the country (towards our first show tonight in NC) that at some point they should run out-a spring cut from the expanse of ocean bordering states blinds weak midwestern eyes. the darkness brings a different sort of blindness but equally as scary. the kind that burns backwards so that the end is infinitely more surprising than the warm coal start. but no one will escape it. repetition of the storm and of the night before augments the senses but limits the input. crazed and circular we se ourselves from behind trying to catch a stinging memory of what we once thought possible. dissapointment upon another stacks high and eventually we collapse in the soggy ruins of failed attempts and wrinkled expectations. coast above. wind will lift the fragile words of those who gaurd each waking morning with greed and limitless fear. a world of desire could never compare to the speed of reality-crashing reality. out of control and spinning to uncertain depths or heights but spinning very very quickly. so quickly my head begins to hurt from the shouting. such an uncommon event is beyond surprising; it means everything it says.