Choose a Band/Artist/Album and describe yourself only in song lyrics:
Band/Artist/Album of choice: Ellis Paul--Live
Are you male or female?: "Here she is"
Describe yourself: "Like when she smiles, it's slightly out of line./It's half awkward, yet half grace. "
How do some people feel about you?: "I've come a long, long way"
How do you feel about yourself?: "You paint the picture/With colors squeezed from your hand"
Describe your ex-boyfriend/girlfriend: "The excuses get weaker/As the stories get tall"
Describe your current boyfriend/girlfriend: "Tonight will this mystery end?/ When we begin "
Describe where you want to be: "It was cold in the park"
Describe what you want to be: "The great American novel sits on top of Peter's kitchen table/300 pages on a town he built inside of his head"
Describe how you live: "You gotta get gone, you gotta get goin'/Hey the world ain't slowin' down for no one"
Describe how you love: "And she'll love like it's thirst, like she's never been hurt"
Share a few words of wisdom: "Seize the day"
I've been writing a lot lately. Perhaps I'll post a little bit later.
Monday, October 10, 2005
Monday, October 03, 2005
Monday, September 19, 2005
Monday, September 05, 2005
Numbers
I think the first time I really talked to Jay was two months ago. It was my 20th birthday on February 7th and I think that was the first time that we really talked, just the two of us. We’d talked before—we hung around behind the counter and went on and on about records and our favorite independent films and which bands were coming to town. But on my twentieth birthday, we sort of hit this new level. We were leaving work, heading to our cars and just as I was turning the key to unlock my door he says over the roof of his car parked next to mine, “So what’s it like to be 20?” And he told me that I’d been alive for two decades, two eras, and five presidential terms.
And it must have had something to do with me never thinking about it before that point in the day. Not really thinking about it. I had to turn and I left my keys hanging in the door. And I told him that I hadn’t seriously thought about what it was like. But that it did feel different—because suddenly I was aware of numbers more than I ever had been. When you’re a kid you think numbers are the most important thing in the world. Especially when it comes to age. Little kids are always throwing their fingers in the air, showing the world how old they are today and how old they’ll be next year. When you turn ten it’s the biggest thing in the world because you’re in the double digits. And even when you grow up, you freak out at 25 because it’s closer to 30 and you freak out at 40 and wonder why you were freaking out at 25 because it was mostly great back then and now you have a bum leg and you’re losing your vision.
The kinds of numbers that I was having difficulty with weren’t that kind. They mostly had to do with how many times I’d experienced certain things. Like kisses. The truth is that at that point on my 20th birthday I had only been kissed 36 times. And that seems like a big number until you consider that almost half of those were stage-kisses for the theater and half of the stage-kisses were for rehearsals which count even less. And even out of all the other times I think maybe three of them were real, meaningful, good kisses. I thought about all of the missed opportunities for kisses. I thought about why kissing was such a big deal. Then I thought about wine. I’d had 13 glasses of wine. Mostly with my family for special dinners or events. I’d never had any hard liquor, never done shots, never even a beer. I was clean. Virtually un-kissable and sober at twenty. Those were the kinds of numbers that were suddenly bothering me. I was in my second year at college—almost to my third. And there were so many kids drinking every night, and being kissed. The kisses might not have been meaningful to those kids, but they were plentiful. And that gave them better odds.
It’s strange, but I told all of this to Jay without apprehension. I just sort of unloaded it on him and afterwards I told him how good it felt. I forgot to mention this but while I was telling him about numbers he was slowly taking steps around to the other side of his car—to the side that was close to me. I don’t know why I stopped caring about whether or not he knew the real person I was. Suddenly it didn’t matter that he knew I was probably an accidental virgin or that I chose not to drink or that I’d probably never smoked a cigarette in 20 years. I didn’t feel like that would make me less cool to him. Instead, I felt like now I could tell him anything. Like I could ask him anything.
Jay had told me that when he was twenty, he was in a band and that his band was going to make it big in New York City and even if they didn’t, they were just going to head out there to play the underground clubs and let out their sound. But then he met this girl. And he married her and didn’t go. I always felt bad about that because when he talked about his band his eyes just got so much more sincere. So that night, on my birthday, I asked him if he regretted being married. And then he kissed me and I think it was my 37th kiss. I was twenty years old and as I felt the inside walls of his shoes bump against the toes of mine as we kissed my 37th kiss, I became less concerned with age. I think he was 39. I’ve stopped caring. My keys were still dangling from the door when he pulled away. I couldn’t look at his face at that moment, but in my side view mirror, his eyes were locked upon my own and I had never seen them looking more sincere.
And it must have had something to do with me never thinking about it before that point in the day. Not really thinking about it. I had to turn and I left my keys hanging in the door. And I told him that I hadn’t seriously thought about what it was like. But that it did feel different—because suddenly I was aware of numbers more than I ever had been. When you’re a kid you think numbers are the most important thing in the world. Especially when it comes to age. Little kids are always throwing their fingers in the air, showing the world how old they are today and how old they’ll be next year. When you turn ten it’s the biggest thing in the world because you’re in the double digits. And even when you grow up, you freak out at 25 because it’s closer to 30 and you freak out at 40 and wonder why you were freaking out at 25 because it was mostly great back then and now you have a bum leg and you’re losing your vision.
The kinds of numbers that I was having difficulty with weren’t that kind. They mostly had to do with how many times I’d experienced certain things. Like kisses. The truth is that at that point on my 20th birthday I had only been kissed 36 times. And that seems like a big number until you consider that almost half of those were stage-kisses for the theater and half of the stage-kisses were for rehearsals which count even less. And even out of all the other times I think maybe three of them were real, meaningful, good kisses. I thought about all of the missed opportunities for kisses. I thought about why kissing was such a big deal. Then I thought about wine. I’d had 13 glasses of wine. Mostly with my family for special dinners or events. I’d never had any hard liquor, never done shots, never even a beer. I was clean. Virtually un-kissable and sober at twenty. Those were the kinds of numbers that were suddenly bothering me. I was in my second year at college—almost to my third. And there were so many kids drinking every night, and being kissed. The kisses might not have been meaningful to those kids, but they were plentiful. And that gave them better odds.
It’s strange, but I told all of this to Jay without apprehension. I just sort of unloaded it on him and afterwards I told him how good it felt. I forgot to mention this but while I was telling him about numbers he was slowly taking steps around to the other side of his car—to the side that was close to me. I don’t know why I stopped caring about whether or not he knew the real person I was. Suddenly it didn’t matter that he knew I was probably an accidental virgin or that I chose not to drink or that I’d probably never smoked a cigarette in 20 years. I didn’t feel like that would make me less cool to him. Instead, I felt like now I could tell him anything. Like I could ask him anything.
Jay had told me that when he was twenty, he was in a band and that his band was going to make it big in New York City and even if they didn’t, they were just going to head out there to play the underground clubs and let out their sound. But then he met this girl. And he married her and didn’t go. I always felt bad about that because when he talked about his band his eyes just got so much more sincere. So that night, on my birthday, I asked him if he regretted being married. And then he kissed me and I think it was my 37th kiss. I was twenty years old and as I felt the inside walls of his shoes bump against the toes of mine as we kissed my 37th kiss, I became less concerned with age. I think he was 39. I’ve stopped caring. My keys were still dangling from the door when he pulled away. I couldn’t look at his face at that moment, but in my side view mirror, his eyes were locked upon my own and I had never seen them looking more sincere.
Friday, April 01, 2005
Monday, March 28, 2005
Peanut and Foreshadowing
| You scored as Existentialism. Your life is guided by the concept of Existentialism: You choose the meaning and purpose of your life. “Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does.” “It is up to you to give [life] a meaning.” --Jean-Paul Sartre “It is man's natural sickness to believe that he possesses the Truth.” --Blaise Pascal More info at Arocoun"> Wikipedia User Page...
What philosophy do you follow? (v1.02) created with QuizFarm.com |
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Friday, March 25, 2005
Quicksand
Sometimes "I want to see you tonight" means "I want to see you tonight".
Sometimes it means "I want to be us tonight".
Sometimes it means "I don't want them to see us tonight".
I am a pathetic loser. I will delete this post within the next twenty four hours. But for now it stays.
Sometimes it means "I want to be us tonight".
Sometimes it means "I don't want them to see us tonight".
I am a pathetic loser. I will delete this post within the next twenty four hours. But for now it stays.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
John Proctor
If only they had stayed away for a little bit longer, and left us cowering in our new corner...
I feel a haiku coming on:
Hide behind the bar.
Kiss me when she runs upstairs.
No one has to know.
Haiku.
Bless me.
I feel a haiku coming on:
Hide behind the bar.
Kiss me when she runs upstairs.
No one has to know.
Haiku.
Bless me.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
The points system...
I'm going to start recording points. I don't know what I'm going to do with whoever collects the most points, but here's the day's tally:
Andrew - 20 points
Sam - 12 points
Toni- 4 points
Kevin- 13 points
Dane- 6 points
Me- 10 points
Andrew - 20 points
Sam - 12 points
Toni- 4 points
Kevin- 13 points
Dane- 6 points
Me- 10 points
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Ides, dude.
Yea this has nothing to do with the Ides of March. I know, I know "et tu, stdesantis". Sorry I fooled you. Really, the title of this post should be "The Genius of My Cat". This weekend I was working on my screenplay at home on the floor (I do that) and my cat walked over my keyboard when I rolled over for a sip of Diet Coke. Here's what the thing came up with:
N bjmn
Now normally we could just laugh this off and say, "Ha. Stupid cat walked on your keyboard. Lame!" But if you will just stay with me, dear reader, while I explain the genius of this furry little housebeast...
She capitalized her first letter. Clearly, this cat knows the most fundamental rule of the complete sentence. You capitalize the first word, which, in this case, is "N". Then, she put a space between her two words. Brilliant! A space!
The tragedy is that I didn't allow my cat to continue on her path of feline literary achievement. Instead, I swatted her away before she could even insert end punctuation. I was ignorant and quite afraid that she would delete my entire screenplay. Yea right! This cat totally understands the Ctrl+S command! Oh it pains me to think of how her bright little paws could have revolutionized my craft! It could have been me, Oscar! It could have been me [ow]!
N bjmn
Now normally we could just laugh this off and say, "Ha. Stupid cat walked on your keyboard. Lame!" But if you will just stay with me, dear reader, while I explain the genius of this furry little housebeast...
She capitalized her first letter. Clearly, this cat knows the most fundamental rule of the complete sentence. You capitalize the first word, which, in this case, is "N". Then, she put a space between her two words. Brilliant! A space!
The tragedy is that I didn't allow my cat to continue on her path of feline literary achievement. Instead, I swatted her away before she could even insert end punctuation. I was ignorant and quite afraid that she would delete my entire screenplay. Yea right! This cat totally understands the Ctrl+S command! Oh it pains me to think of how her bright little paws could have revolutionized my craft! It could have been me, Oscar! It could have been me [ow]!
Monday, March 14, 2005
Jealous Again
I am a jealous lover. I decided that when I was watching "The End of the Affair" the other day. Ralph Fiennes' character "measures the degree of his love by the degree of his jealousy" and it just clicked that I am the same way. It makes me spiteful and bitter and paranoid and I absolutely hate it.
I don't want to be bothered by anything, but I am.
This is the most pointless and ridiculous post ever.
I don't want to be bothered by anything, but I am.
This is the most pointless and ridiculous post ever.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Take that, Central Perk.
I decided the other day that if I retire with a considerable amount of money, I'd like to open a coffee house. It would be a house, of course--not a "place" or a "shop" or even a "shoppe". I'd find an old building and renovate it and just have my own coffee house. We'd serve good stuff like tea and chai (real Oregon chai--not chai-flavored syrup) and we'd have creative house blends and jet tea and milkshakes and biscotti and muffins and sandwiches and wraps and cheesecake.
I would host artists every weekend and I'd have an open mic during the week. I wouldn't limit the entertainment to music. I'd welcome poetry, comedy, studio art, photography, sculpture, interprative dance, whatever. I would host a monthly poetry slam and maybe an annual drama festival sort of thing where actors could read or act selections from plays.
I would have a bar at the counter, tables spread throughout and a few couches in the back next to big bookshelves. I would collect book donations the shelves and even do a little bartering. Like if you bring five used books for the shelves you get a free cup of coffee. Or if you see a book on the shelves that you like you can trade one of your own for it.
I'd patronize Caruso's coffee, of course (nepotism works when the product is good!) but I would rename the blends after famous writers.
The Ferlinghetti Blend (Cappuccino)
The Hemingway Blend (Cinnamon Hazlenut- decaf)
The Bard's Blend (English toffee--or the Othello Blend which would be a combination of dark and white chocolate syrup)
The Kerouac Blend (Frangelico- nutty and poignant with a staying taste)
Dickinson's Homebody Blend (Not sure about this one but it would definitely be decaf)
Tennessee's Tin Roof Blend (Just like it sounds- tin roof, yo!)
The Neruda Blend (Chilean coffee con leche)
Heart of Darkness (Obviously Ethiopian, Kenyan, or Sumatran)
I'd be psyched to sell new blends every day because I could include new authors. I would ask the customer to give the name of or quote one of the day's author's works and if they could I'd give them 10% off their next purchase.
Oh I have to go. More later.
I would host artists every weekend and I'd have an open mic during the week. I wouldn't limit the entertainment to music. I'd welcome poetry, comedy, studio art, photography, sculpture, interprative dance, whatever. I would host a monthly poetry slam and maybe an annual drama festival sort of thing where actors could read or act selections from plays.
I would have a bar at the counter, tables spread throughout and a few couches in the back next to big bookshelves. I would collect book donations the shelves and even do a little bartering. Like if you bring five used books for the shelves you get a free cup of coffee. Or if you see a book on the shelves that you like you can trade one of your own for it.
I'd patronize Caruso's coffee, of course (nepotism works when the product is good!) but I would rename the blends after famous writers.
The Ferlinghetti Blend (Cappuccino)
The Hemingway Blend (Cinnamon Hazlenut- decaf)
The Bard's Blend (English toffee--or the Othello Blend which would be a combination of dark and white chocolate syrup)
The Kerouac Blend (Frangelico- nutty and poignant with a staying taste)
Dickinson's Homebody Blend (Not sure about this one but it would definitely be decaf)
Tennessee's Tin Roof Blend (Just like it sounds- tin roof, yo!)
The Neruda Blend (Chilean coffee con leche)
Heart of Darkness (Obviously Ethiopian, Kenyan, or Sumatran)
I'd be psyched to sell new blends every day because I could include new authors. I would ask the customer to give the name of or quote one of the day's author's works and if they could I'd give them 10% off their next purchase.
Oh I have to go. More later.
Monday, February 14, 2005
My youth= The new 2 Disc Compilation
I'm putting together an ultimate mix of songs that I listened to religiously during my youth. Here's what I have so far:
1) Ice Cream- Sarah McLachlan
2) Pearl Jam- Yellow Ledbetter
3) Live- Lightning Crashes
4) Counting Crows- Round Here
5) Nirvana- Heart-Shaped Box
6) R.E.M.- The One I Love
7) Mighty Mighty Bosstones- Simmer Down
8) Beatles- Octopus's Garden
9) Creedence Clearwater Revival- Bad Moon Rising
10) Joe Diffie- Prop Me Up Beside the Jukebox
11) Fugees- No Woman, No Cry
12) Jewel- Foolish Games
13) Black Crowes- Hard to Handle
14) Soundgarden- Black Hole Sun
15) Cranberries- Dreams
16) Radiohead- Creep
17) Smashing Pumpkins- 1979
18) Red Hot Chili Peppers- Under the Bridge
19) Cardigans- Love Me
20) Alanis Morrisette- Head Over Feet
21) Tori Amos- Silent All These Years
22) Depeche Mode- Personal Jesus
23) Green Day- Basketcase
24) U2- One
25) Tom Petty- Free Fallin'
26) Weezer- Say It Ain't So
27) Natalie Merchant- Wonder
28) Gin Blossoms- Follow You Down
29) Blues Traveler- Run Around
30) Jane's Addiction- Jane Says
31) Fiona Apple- Criminal
32) Beck- Loser
33) Bush- Glycerine
34) Wallflowers- One Headlight
35) Boyz II Men- Water Runs Dry
36) Aerosmith- Janie's Got a Gun
18 Songs on each? Sounds full enough to me! Maybe my brother's hip-hop influence doesn't show through, and there was definitely some more classic rock that I didn't touch on. Stuff like Van Morrison. I feel bad for leaving that older stuff out. But oh well. That's another mix.
1) Ice Cream- Sarah McLachlan
2) Pearl Jam- Yellow Ledbetter
3) Live- Lightning Crashes
4) Counting Crows- Round Here
5) Nirvana- Heart-Shaped Box
6) R.E.M.- The One I Love
7) Mighty Mighty Bosstones- Simmer Down
8) Beatles- Octopus's Garden
9) Creedence Clearwater Revival- Bad Moon Rising
10) Joe Diffie- Prop Me Up Beside the Jukebox
11) Fugees- No Woman, No Cry
12) Jewel- Foolish Games
13) Black Crowes- Hard to Handle
14) Soundgarden- Black Hole Sun
15) Cranberries- Dreams
16) Radiohead- Creep
17) Smashing Pumpkins- 1979
18) Red Hot Chili Peppers- Under the Bridge
19) Cardigans- Love Me
20) Alanis Morrisette- Head Over Feet
21) Tori Amos- Silent All These Years
22) Depeche Mode- Personal Jesus
23) Green Day- Basketcase
24) U2- One
25) Tom Petty- Free Fallin'
26) Weezer- Say It Ain't So
27) Natalie Merchant- Wonder
28) Gin Blossoms- Follow You Down
29) Blues Traveler- Run Around
30) Jane's Addiction- Jane Says
31) Fiona Apple- Criminal
32) Beck- Loser
33) Bush- Glycerine
34) Wallflowers- One Headlight
35) Boyz II Men- Water Runs Dry
36) Aerosmith- Janie's Got a Gun
18 Songs on each? Sounds full enough to me! Maybe my brother's hip-hop influence doesn't show through, and there was definitely some more classic rock that I didn't touch on. Stuff like Van Morrison. I feel bad for leaving that older stuff out. But oh well. That's another mix.
Monday, December 06, 2004
Chin down
I've known for a while that I work better while lying on my belly on the floor. Desks are okay but the floor is my ideal. Sitting on the floor works, but lying down is preferable.
Me and the laptop lying alone in my dorm on the floor. Now you know why I vacuum obsessively. Now you know why my back gets sore all the time. Or maybe you didn't know that. I always sit with my seat straight up when I drive. Yesterday I drove through a freaking parade just to return a stack of books at the library. The book that was being held for me was mysteriously gone, so now I have to get back on this massive waiting list which sucks because Ange and I were supposed to discuss it over break. Bah. I was salty because they had the "De-Lovely" soundtrack so I could have just burned it. Oh well- it's worth the money I suppose. And I picked up the soundtrack for "A Mighty Wind".
I need to start planning my dinners. It's getting kind of scary because a lot of people are asking me when they are and they're people who haven't ever been invited. I refuse to cook for 30 people on two nights. I don't have a long enough table. I need to start prepping myself so I can beat all of my friends hardcore at Scattergories.
My back is killing me. This is one of the most random posts ever. Tomorrow I'll try to throw on a poem or something.
Me and the laptop lying alone in my dorm on the floor. Now you know why I vacuum obsessively. Now you know why my back gets sore all the time. Or maybe you didn't know that. I always sit with my seat straight up when I drive. Yesterday I drove through a freaking parade just to return a stack of books at the library. The book that was being held for me was mysteriously gone, so now I have to get back on this massive waiting list which sucks because Ange and I were supposed to discuss it over break. Bah. I was salty because they had the "De-Lovely" soundtrack so I could have just burned it. Oh well- it's worth the money I suppose. And I picked up the soundtrack for "A Mighty Wind".
I need to start planning my dinners. It's getting kind of scary because a lot of people are asking me when they are and they're people who haven't ever been invited. I refuse to cook for 30 people on two nights. I don't have a long enough table. I need to start prepping myself so I can beat all of my friends hardcore at Scattergories.
My back is killing me. This is one of the most random posts ever. Tomorrow I'll try to throw on a poem or something.
Sunday, November 14, 2004
Lost Our Place
Farinacci's
The Sweeney's at the cast party
Cleveland Playhouse ("Enchanted April")
The zoo at Christmastime
Brielle's in our chair
The Hanna Building
The River Ford in the park
Kids Quarters
The park in Echo Hills
Rosati's
Furnace Run
Octane
In all of the places my graces were lost
Where dignity spared sold at sanity's cost
Where fingerprints follow a trail of deceit
I'm standing alone in the prints of your feet
These, of course are the places where I should have found words. Three at least. I've got them, I've got them, I've got them I swear I do. Come and get them, please- they're yours, after all. I'm tired of keeping them for you.
The Sweeney's at the cast party
Cleveland Playhouse ("Enchanted April")
The zoo at Christmastime
Brielle's in our chair
The Hanna Building
The River Ford in the park
Kids Quarters
The park in Echo Hills
Rosati's
Furnace Run
Octane
In all of the places my graces were lost
Where dignity spared sold at sanity's cost
Where fingerprints follow a trail of deceit
I'm standing alone in the prints of your feet
These, of course are the places where I should have found words. Three at least. I've got them, I've got them, I've got them I swear I do. Come and get them, please- they're yours, after all. I'm tired of keeping them for you.
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Thursday Will Be Better
I already posted my frustrations in the lj tonight, so I won't do it here.
Frustration seems to be the word of the day.
Get through tomorrow. That's the ticket.
9:20-10:10- Freshman Class *cough*worthless*cough*
2:40-3:30- Group Communication and Leadership
6:15- Radio interview recording session.
7:15- "Mating Habits of Yellowjackets" audition and BuzzTV premiere party.
So Liz wants to interview me about my songwriting for her radio class and she wants me to play a song and talk about the lyrics. So that puts me in the radio station for a while. I'm going to miss a big chunk of the BuzzTV premiere party-- and dinner. Andrea M. Wade edited without me tonight. I'm mad.
I hope people show up for the audition, but I'm afraid it's not going to happen. The segment should be cool, but oh well. Andrea M. Wade is just annoying. Burn witches.
All my sighs lately sound like the word "Thursday". I'm bracing myself for a letdown. I usually do.
Frustration seems to be the word of the day.
Get through tomorrow. That's the ticket.
9:20-10:10- Freshman Class *cough*worthless*cough*
2:40-3:30- Group Communication and Leadership
6:15- Radio interview recording session.
7:15- "Mating Habits of Yellowjackets" audition and BuzzTV premiere party.
So Liz wants to interview me about my songwriting for her radio class and she wants me to play a song and talk about the lyrics. So that puts me in the radio station for a while. I'm going to miss a big chunk of the BuzzTV premiere party-- and dinner. Andrea M. Wade edited without me tonight. I'm mad.
I hope people show up for the audition, but I'm afraid it's not going to happen. The segment should be cool, but oh well. Andrea M. Wade is just annoying. Burn witches.
All my sighs lately sound like the word "Thursday". I'm bracing myself for a letdown. I usually do.
Saturday, October 23, 2004
Growing Together Apart
"You know where all the cool places are," she says to me over the phone, and I am overcome by this unnecessary flattery. I am suddenly pressured to find somewhere quaint, somewhere different, somewhere less commercial, somewhere cool. We change from Starbucks to Brielle's in a matter of seconds, at the mere invocation of my suggestion. It's a funny sort of power that I have over my social circles. I feel unworthy.
I've been to this place a few lonely times. It's never had any significance. I drink there when I'm feeling romantic. I've often been inclined to stop by in the early evening during the fall, lackadaisically entertaining the thought of writing the next great American novel right there at one of those antique tables as I nurse my chai or my tea. (Life moves fast enough without the aid of a double shot espresso.)
Tonight I am surrounded by people that love me. And I love them. I love them so they can't imagine. Tonight I sit next to him like I have for six years--just exactly the same. And it wasn't different at all until we heard a whisper from that darkened corner. And I walked over, following the echo of this whisper that broke the silence and I sat down in a soft chair. And she sat across from me. And then you came too.
I began to voice my insecurities, for whatever reason. Maybe because I've been alone for so long now, maybe because my subconscious has highly ulterior motives. And then you broke my heart. "When I try to picture the perfect woman, I think of you," or something like this. Only it's not so direct and there's a lot more candid stammering, which is your way. And she leaves us.
We were silent forever, which is not nearly as long as I have waited to voice myself to you. And we are closer than forever has allowed. I imagine the two of us painted smoothly on the side of an ancient Grecian artifact, forever suspended in this chair, frozen in a mix of fear, frustration, and want. I should have just done it. We should have. You should have. Because you know how scared I get. How awkward. How uncomfortable I am in this skin. But we didn't. We turned our heads and spoke into the floor and apologized. And we waited in vain for her to come back. And someone else did. But it took a while. Too long.
You're my best friend. I should have kissed you then. And even if it would have been a mistake to do so, it would have been the best mistake I've ever made.
I never want to go there without you again.
I've been to this place a few lonely times. It's never had any significance. I drink there when I'm feeling romantic. I've often been inclined to stop by in the early evening during the fall, lackadaisically entertaining the thought of writing the next great American novel right there at one of those antique tables as I nurse my chai or my tea. (Life moves fast enough without the aid of a double shot espresso.)
Tonight I am surrounded by people that love me. And I love them. I love them so they can't imagine. Tonight I sit next to him like I have for six years--just exactly the same. And it wasn't different at all until we heard a whisper from that darkened corner. And I walked over, following the echo of this whisper that broke the silence and I sat down in a soft chair. And she sat across from me. And then you came too.
I began to voice my insecurities, for whatever reason. Maybe because I've been alone for so long now, maybe because my subconscious has highly ulterior motives. And then you broke my heart. "When I try to picture the perfect woman, I think of you," or something like this. Only it's not so direct and there's a lot more candid stammering, which is your way. And she leaves us.
We were silent forever, which is not nearly as long as I have waited to voice myself to you. And we are closer than forever has allowed. I imagine the two of us painted smoothly on the side of an ancient Grecian artifact, forever suspended in this chair, frozen in a mix of fear, frustration, and want. I should have just done it. We should have. You should have. Because you know how scared I get. How awkward. How uncomfortable I am in this skin. But we didn't. We turned our heads and spoke into the floor and apologized. And we waited in vain for her to come back. And someone else did. But it took a while. Too long.
You're my best friend. I should have kissed you then. And even if it would have been a mistake to do so, it would have been the best mistake I've ever made.
I never want to go there without you again.
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Coincidence? What's that?
I just walked into my room after brushing my teeth and Ellis Paul started singing "Here She Is"! How sweet is that?
It's going to be a good day...
It's going to be a good day...
Sunday, October 10, 2004
Dollars to Doughnuts
I wish he knew. I also wish there was some way I could say that without sounding contrived. I can't call him a coward- the man that I love will not be a coward.
I'll probably want to die for a little while on Wednesday.
So far, there are eight songs that I'd consider for my demo. Hopefully I'll have the drive to actually record it around the holidays. People actually want to buy it. I'm tickled...
I'm convinced that nobody reads this journal. And I don't really get anything out of it by updating. Rather, I feel pressured to write in this because I'm the only one who knows about it. I should feel liberated by this open forum for personal expression sans consequence, but instead I am imprisoned. I create strings of words that sound ridiculous together. Nobody judges but me. I sound pathetic--maybe even emo. This makes me shudder.
I've been shuddering for a very long time.
There is a Target and a Best Buy coming to that shopping center by Macedonia Commons. AKA: All of my Christmas shopping will be done in that shopping center by Macedonia Commons. AKA: I'm saving a lot of money on gas this holiday season. AKA: More time to watch brilliantly orchestrated clay movies on ABC family.
I actually listened to a Christmas song today. Sleigh Ride, done by Lena Horne. Christmas is my favorite thing. I'm a child.
I don't think my psyc test is tomorrow....dag, yo.
I'll probably want to die for a little while on Wednesday.
So far, there are eight songs that I'd consider for my demo. Hopefully I'll have the drive to actually record it around the holidays. People actually want to buy it. I'm tickled...
I'm convinced that nobody reads this journal. And I don't really get anything out of it by updating. Rather, I feel pressured to write in this because I'm the only one who knows about it. I should feel liberated by this open forum for personal expression sans consequence, but instead I am imprisoned. I create strings of words that sound ridiculous together. Nobody judges but me. I sound pathetic--maybe even emo. This makes me shudder.
I've been shuddering for a very long time.
There is a Target and a Best Buy coming to that shopping center by Macedonia Commons. AKA: All of my Christmas shopping will be done in that shopping center by Macedonia Commons. AKA: I'm saving a lot of money on gas this holiday season. AKA: More time to watch brilliantly orchestrated clay movies on ABC family.
I actually listened to a Christmas song today. Sleigh Ride, done by Lena Horne. Christmas is my favorite thing. I'm a child.
I don't think my psyc test is tomorrow....dag, yo.
Sunday, October 03, 2004
Less Rocca
My boyfriend, Mo Rocca, canceled his little jaunt at Case. This is good because I don't feel stupid for missing out.
I celebrated my dorm reunion by playing a bunch of Nirvana songs on my acoustic. It felt good to go unplugged after a weekend of futzing around with my newly re-strung electric. I'm glad I finally replaced those two strings- I felt negligent for letting him sit there on the stand, untouched for so long.
Finally got to watch a large chunk of the "debate" this evening, but MAN. What a load of crap. I'm glad I'm skilled at making my own fun, because there was certainly nothing outwardly good about what was going on. There was definite humor in the little things. My favorite was a Kerry quote: "Unfortunately, he escaped in the mountains of Tora Bora..." (Of course referring to that elusive little scamp, Osama bin Laden.)
I was comforted today in the presence of my cousins. Every time I see them, they're three more inches taller than me, a sign that I don't devote as much time to them as I used to. I was never hesitant to tell people who inquired that my cousins were my best friends. Now, I sometimes feel the need to add that three-word-disclaimer: "used to be". Fortunately, I think the boys feel the same way; today we committed a weekend to each other. We're planning on gracing our grandma's house with our mischief, like we used to when we were wee. (When we were wee sounds cool!) That means chicken noodle soup, this whacked out game that we invented that calls for one of those duster things, four pillows, and a cat toy, and some pretty killer home movies down the hill on the canal. (We're so messed up)
Anyway, I felt the need to put something in here. I feel bad because most of my better writing is archived in my lj already, and so I usually write furreal in there. I'll have to work on balancing my brilliance.
I celebrated my dorm reunion by playing a bunch of Nirvana songs on my acoustic. It felt good to go unplugged after a weekend of futzing around with my newly re-strung electric. I'm glad I finally replaced those two strings- I felt negligent for letting him sit there on the stand, untouched for so long.
Finally got to watch a large chunk of the "debate" this evening, but MAN. What a load of crap. I'm glad I'm skilled at making my own fun, because there was certainly nothing outwardly good about what was going on. There was definite humor in the little things. My favorite was a Kerry quote: "Unfortunately, he escaped in the mountains of Tora Bora..." (Of course referring to that elusive little scamp, Osama bin Laden.)
I was comforted today in the presence of my cousins. Every time I see them, they're three more inches taller than me, a sign that I don't devote as much time to them as I used to. I was never hesitant to tell people who inquired that my cousins were my best friends. Now, I sometimes feel the need to add that three-word-disclaimer: "used to be". Fortunately, I think the boys feel the same way; today we committed a weekend to each other. We're planning on gracing our grandma's house with our mischief, like we used to when we were wee. (When we were wee sounds cool!) That means chicken noodle soup, this whacked out game that we invented that calls for one of those duster things, four pillows, and a cat toy, and some pretty killer home movies down the hill on the canal. (We're so messed up)
Anyway, I felt the need to put something in here. I feel bad because most of my better writing is archived in my lj already, and so I usually write furreal in there. I'll have to work on balancing my brilliance.
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