"And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain"
Tools of the trade.
Dear Diary,
The rattle of the snare wires, like the hulking train of my despair, trundles on. The more I listen the more my mind begins to tick like a monotonous metronome, my thoughts slowly cataloguing every imperfection into an epic tome embedded into the soft tissues and endless twisting nerves of my brain. There is still much work before me but first, I must lay the foundations upon which I will build my castle. The night gently wrapped its silky embrace around the studio but a few hours ago. My bed beckons however sleep must wait. I must continue my work. The limitations of this mortal body are becoming an annoyance, forever threatening to extinguish the flame of my brilliance.
Riley MacIntyre - Producer Extraordinaire