So, you know there is a place where everybody knows your name. Like “Cheers” except not on television at all. On this place, this electric post office where the letters became crazy asylum patients, slowly surrounding the windows until the letters became metallic frogs. Oh Gawkie. […]

I love your comment section. It reminds me every day just what kind of person I exactly never want to become. I mean, as a whole, it reads like dialog in an Osacr Wilde made for t.v. movie. Minus any actual wit. Because if you really want to polish your skills you got to get up in the fucking morning and MAKE something. I put my skills on the line. I make art. I back my shit up with working my ass off. I BELIEVE in the process. I don’t hide out in the comments waiting to one up the last guy or girl who found the most appropriately mean-spirited anecdote ( oh by the way being mean is not being witty actually, it should be an after affect- but you know, why would anybody there know that? they don’t participate)

But I like you. you remind me of Uncle Marvin, who always talked back to the t.v. Who never married. Who disappeared into his straight job flattened by his loss of love, who was the loudest at the table with nothing to say.

This is YOUR legacy.

…and with that, I no longer feel ashamed of my long-time crush on Ryan Adams.