Sweet belief. Pouring down the valley. Warm belief. Keeping the scared adolescents cozy. Belief destiny. Looking for gold. Trying to strike a cord. Trying to ripcord the pull-string. "Get this engine going." Sweet belief machine. Rumbling through the library scenes. Strained musicians pluck their noise objects. I'm on the hunt for a place where I can be alone for a while. I'm on the hunt for a space where i can look for belief gold, where I do not have to always be on guard for realtors and independent contractors and their boring stories of what their customers had the gall to say to them. I'm just looking for some place to rest my muscles. Belief muscles. Stretched and pulsating through my religion-robes. Belief pistols. Shooting blanks in all directions.