I took Ryan Adams with me on my run this morning in air I could tell was cool, even as my body heated up.
His voice suits a gray sky and a hill full of the good people of Millersburg resting in the ground beneath their monuments.
My obsessions collide. I spend my days chasing words and here a string of them slipped in and snagged on something: "I taught myself how to grow 'Til I was crooked on the outside, inside's caved"
I glanced down at the sleek little machine in my hand as tough "Title, Album, Artist" would tell me anything more about the sad man behind this curtain: this song.
If I can't have my beloved moon on such runs, I'll simulate her as best I can through the music I feed my halloween-head.
Ryan Adams, you glow sad as the moon and that terrifyingly honest lostness of home screams in your harmonica

i think i'm in love with Ryan Adams.