Thursday, December 31, 2009
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Avett Brothers
My vacations ending. I’m coming home late.
The weather was fine and the ocean was great
and I can’t wait to see you again.
Hate reads the letter and throws it away.
“No one here cares if you go or you stay.
I barely even noticed that you were away.
I’ll see you or I won’t, whatever.”
Love sings a song as she sails through the sky.
The water looks bluer through her pretty eyes.
And everyone knows it whenever she flies,
and also when she comes down.
Hate keeps his head up and walks through the street.
Every stranger and drifter he greets.
And shakes hands with every loner he meets
with a serious look on his face.
Love arrives safely with suitcase in tow.
Carrying with her the good things we know.
A reason to live and a reason to grow.
To trust. To hope. To care.
Hate sits alone on the hood of his car.
Without much regard to the moon or the stars.
Lazily killing the last of a jar
of the strongest stuff you can drink.
Love takes a taxi, a young man drives.
As soon as he sees her, hope fills his eyes.
But tears follow after, at the end of the ride,
cause he might never see her again.
Hate gets home lucky to still be alive.
He screams o’er the sidewalk and into the drive.
The clock in the kitchen says 2:55,
And the clock in the kitchen is slow.
Love has been waiting, patient and kind.
Just wanting a phone call or some kind of sign,
That the one that she cares for, who’s out of his mind,
Will make it back safe to her arms.
Hate stumbles forward and leans in the door.
Weary head hung, eyes to the floor.
He says “Love, I’m sorry”, and she says, “What for?
I’m your's and that’s it, Whatever.
I should not have been gone for so long.
I’m your’s and that’s it, forever.”
You’re mine and that’s it, forever.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
We all have the potential to fall in love a thousand times in our lifetime. It’s easy. The first girl I ever loved was someone I knew in sixth grade. Her name was Missy; we talked about horses. The last girl I love will be someone I haven’t even met yet, probably. They all count. But there are certain people you love who do something else; they define how you classify what love is supposed to feel like. These are the most important people in your life, and you’ll meet maybe four or five of these people over the span of 80 years. But there’s still one more tier to all this; there is always one person you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it happens eventually. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people, even if some of these loveable qualities are self-destructive and unreasonable. The person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and they’re often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really, want to love someone. But that person still wins. They win, and you lose. Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else.
— Chuck Klosterman (Killing Yourself to Live: 85% of a True Story
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
florence and the machine
and it talks in my sleep
wraps its self around my chest
as it softly speaks
then in walks with my legs
with my legs
to fall at your feet
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Frightened Rabbit- Floating in the Forth
of the front of my house
and I'll never see you again.
I closed my eyes for a second
and when they opened
you weren't there.
And the door shut shut
I was vacuum packed,
shrink-wrapped out of air
And the spine collapsed
and the eyes rolled back
to stare at my starving brain,
And fully clothed, I float away
(I'll float away)
Down the Forth, into the sea
I think I'll save suicide for another day.
And I picture this corpse
on the M8 hearse
and I half run away to sleep
On a rolled up coat
against the window
with the strobe of the sun
and the life I've led
am I ready to leap
is there peace beneath
the roar of the Forth road bridge?
On the Northern side
there's a Fife of mine
and a boat in the port for me,
And fully clothed, I float away
(I'll float away)
Down the Forth, into the sea
I'll steer myself
through drunken waves
these manic gulls
scream it's okay
take your life
give it a shake
gather up
all your loose change
I think I'll save suicide for another year.