Lust, Curiosity and Mourning

I blame winter which is ironic in my little neck of the woods since we don't really experience winter.  I blame winter in theory then.  I'm obsessed.  Obsessed with ravenous feasting on black and white photography, reading Just Kids by Patti Smith, daydreaming of cold cloudy climes and almost tantrically resonating with ideas for my winter mixed cd.

Lately dreams of deserted beaches, carnivorous zombies, long intimate phrases forgotten upon waking, blankets, tangled hair and sweaty limbs.  I love November.  Dark, cozy, mournful, inspired November.