I've got a flask inside my pocket We
can share it on the train And if you promise to stay conscious I
will try to do the same Well we might die from medication But
we sure killed all the pain But what was normal in the evening By
the morning seems insane
-Lua,
Bright Eyes
I live by
the word until I die by your sword Even when I'm dead my head will
live inside your RCA cords I wait for the right time, but it
resembled now-a-days Descended on the Earth to put an end to all
your holidays The assassin covered in plain clothes Smothered
the sunlight and set flame to your rainbows And then came the
storm (and then came the storm) Bewildered those that didn't
contemplate Fake disguised as the norm (as the norm) And when
the smoke evaporated and the damage was assessed The casualities
were counted as they looked upon the mess As they focused they
eyes on the horizon, who'da guessed? All that stood atop the hill
was number seven silhouette
This
is the second month Of the year I turn thirty-seven. Already the
little fists Of leaves are forming inside the knotted ends of
twigs All over Houston. The cold weather is over. This
winter Again there was no freeze. And tonight it's very late, And
it's Sunday, and no cars pass on the big road By the house, but
out there in the night Some kids about seventeen are doing
terrible things They'll get by with, and grow out of, and
remember The way they'll remember what love felt like at
first, Before it stopped being the surest path to
ruination, Before it had done the worst it could and passed
away. And to them it's as if those who lived this life before
them Moved with the jerky speeded-up gestures of characters In
old-fashioned movies, their expressions intense And exaggerated;
they roll their eyes and loll their tongues When the heroin hits
their blood. It's as if the beauty Of evil lives only in the
present, where the drop of dope Clinging to the tip of the
stainless steel point Catches the light like dew; and it doesn't
matter That the light falls from a streetlamp with a short in
it, And the impatient boy with the syringe in his hand Will
touch the drop back into the spoon So as not to waste it. It's his
instinct telling him How much it means to live this now, before he
knows Better, while he still has a chance to survive it. It's
the moon over his head with its polished horns That would slip
through his skin if he touched them. It's the trees leaping to
life in his blood, greenness Unfurling so hard it almost bursts
his heart.
I have never done heroin. It is doubtful that I ever will. When you think about it, I haven't really had much experience with pretty much anything. I haven't seen The Titanic (The Titanic is very similar to heroin so's you know)
I'm still young enough that I have it in me to do incredibly stupid things. I guess age is relative anyways. I love feeling young. It's almost worth not being old enough to go out dancing. Speaking of getting old, and not having experiences, I have never been full-on drunk. The few times I have had l'alcool, I drink so little it doesn't do anything and there is really no point. I just don't like how alcohol makes me feel stupid and slow. I have no conversational skills and I don't get less inhibited, just confused and self conscious. Of course I generally have enough self-confidence to fill arenas, so it's not like drinking could really improve anything per se.
Basically. It's five in the morning and I can't sleep. Here's some random crap that you can read I suppose. Goodness I have poor writing skills at this time in the morning. DON'T HATE THIS IS MY BLOG NOT A FREAKING RESEARCH PAPER.
This title and yesterday's are from Atmosphere songs. (gearing up for the concert in a couple of weeks)
Supported by the crutches of human impotence, the wheel of life spins inexorably. Its stops are few – until it reaches the last stop of all. When we are born, it pauses long enough to take us on, and then it stops again, this second time enchanted into momentary stillness by the miracle of love. While we stand enraptured beside our beloved, seeing the moon and the vast night sky, as it were, for the first time, the decrepit wheel dangles its crutches idly and seems to burst into fantastic bloom. This is the magic hour, and when the spinning begins again we scarcely are aware of a faint, ominous creaking noise.
My favorite teacher once told me
she wears three hats at the same time
while walking through her neighborhood
in the backwoods of Maine;
one to keep her head warm,
one to block the sun from her face,
and one bright orange hat
to keep the hunters from shooting her in the brain.
She looked at me seriously and said,
“I suppose I could get a hat that does all three
but that would be an awfully funny looking hat.”
You, my love
are a funny looking hat.
That is to say,
you are everything I need.
Forgive me for the days
I am ear muffs
in Florida
on a sandy beach
during a heat wave.
but a crater
____________
I've been thinking about the whole "Fat American" stereotype. and poverty. Also the elderly, because of course that is my job.
I still don't particularly like the last bit. I will perhaps come back and change it when I think of something better. I started this off thinking of a burlesque dancer (the whole done up in blues and purples bit) but it ended up being more about fire than anything else.
(who wants to live forever anyways?)
I've been on a canoeing trip in the boundary waters for the past week. Oh hey! you wanna see a meteor shower your best bet is anytime after 11:59 PM on the eleventh... basically super early the morning of the 12th
Also! I moved into my new apartment which is sort of a huge deal for me.
