Sixty? Holy smokes, that is intimidating enough to get me to say holy smokes! I am now obligated to write two songs every three days. Oh well, that's just even more awesome then! (Note: I may die.)
Unlike her, I am not attempting to climb into the lap of some godforsaken downtrodden man. No, instead I have entered a partnership with my internal bard. He travels throughout my psyche, finding bits he likes and composing melodies about them, and when all is said and done he returns to King Brain's Court and recites these melodies to him. My internal bard is usually pretty laid-back, however, and Gus is probably pretty similar to him these days. He puts out what, a new song every couple of weeks? And I give him food, shelter, and the occasional ethereal sixpence. Well, not anymore, bardy-boy, you are going to work for your keep now! I need him, and he needs me to get back to who he once was: a brilliant, attractive young man whom my feminine side held a burning love for. ...Let's not explore this metaphor any deeper than that.
She has a neat widget! I want a neat widget. Damn HTMLers. *pout*
Progress: 1/60
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