Soon: The end of this terrible, terrible quarter. The end of the bad slow, and the beginning of the good slow. The heat-shimmering sprawl that is summer.
The Bad Slow: Depression, sluggishness, in the depths of a sinkhole that is physically and mentally impossible to climb out of. An oceanic weight pressing down on one's head who is too tired and too filled with the Truth to fight it.
The Good Slow: Lazy heat dream. A continuous stream of shapeless days of sweet boredom that washes down the acrid taste of college commuter life. Maybe a job. Maybe trips up the PCH. Maybe anything, yet all maybes with the freedom to do or not do. (Sort of)
Queens of the Stone Age: It will be a summer of Queens, no doubt about it brother. And other things.
Drugs and Alcohol: Check yes, rockstar. Maybe first secure job though. Then the checking of the yes.
Farting: I'm sorry. It had to be mentioned at a time like this.
Lingering Melancholy: Yes, always. But it is easier to fight under the sun. Vitamin D, man.
Question: Where are ya, kid?
