I must be regressing...
because this song was playing in my mind tonight.
Unlovable By The Smiths
I know I'm unlovable
You don't have to tell me
I don't have much in my life
But take it - it's yours
I don't have much in my life
But take it - it's yours
I know I'm unlovable
You don't have to tell me
Oh, message received Loud and clear
Loud and clear
I don't have much in my life
But take it - it's yours
I know I'm unlovable
You don't have to tell me
For message received Loud and clear
Loud and clear Message received
I don't have much in my life
But take it - it's yours
I wear Black on the outside
'Cause Black is how I feel on the inside
I wear Black on the outside
'Cause Black is how I feel on the inside
And if I seem a little strange
Well, that's because I am
If I seem a little strange
That's because I am
But I know that you would like me
If only you could see me
If only you could meet me
I don't have much in my life
But take it - it's yours
I don't have much in my life
But take it - it's yours
Oracles
Dead singer sings about 'them bones' and he’s long gone. I try to learn from saints sinners troubadours madmen and liars. Throw the cards down and toss back a drink and it will be used up, enough enough it spills over the top, and Lilac in seasons bloom like the dark of night and young Orchids that dream in darkness waiting to bloom...and death becomes you, you become death, all do, what are we doing here and for how long will we will be doing it?
Geniuses have to teach themselves when there is no one left to learn from, when the old forms don’t work, when nothing in the usual shape fits anymore, nothing works for me because I’m not meant to work they way they do, I jump out of my skin trying to remember my dreams, urgency pants, deep beneath my skin, its own breath in my ears. I can hear the blood pumping, rising in my ears, it says listen listen listen: I AM HERE.
::::
Pop Pop Pop Muzik...makes sense of it all, listen to signs between the lines...
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My clove candle burns through the night and the world is piped in through satellite, it’s all here, without end, every era, again and again. New fads, and old friends, I hear you again. I do the dishes and dance and dance in slippers in my living room, looking ridiculous without a care, I’m almost all myself again, almost forget that you’re not there. Let me return to myself, my bachelor happiness. I am blessed. A mess. I like it when nothing makes sense. But I sense around the edges all the wisdom waiting to be grabbed, if I can think fast enough, write fast enough, type fast enough I might be able to capture some of it before it flits and I am left at my wits end again. My seams bursting at their ends. Charmingly careless. I wish I cared less about you. You were like a counterfeit five hundred dollar bill not worth the paper you were printed on, but while I held you in my hands I felt like I was the richest girl in the world. I went to the corner store to cash you in for a piece of bubble gum, but I had to count my own pennies instead. Everything I have is mine.
I’m not a superhero, not yet anyway, but I’ll be damned if I let it stop me. I’ll come to my own window and let down my hair and rescue me. I’m my knight in shining armor and I’m free.
The Momentous Return to My Blog! -- I know you've all been waiting, all 2.5 of you
Okay. I suck at blogging. It's clear. I went to read my friend's blog and was utterly humiliated (thanks a freaking lot Marcheline ;-)http://mrssplapthing.blogspot.com/) So, now I have to get off my ass and write something, er, I mean sit on my ass and write something. But I really just don't feel like revealing my secrets, for one thing they're probably too sordid, and for another thing, they are probably rather pathetic. Hmm, what to do? what to do...?
I could always bore people to tears and write about how I need to do laundry today, and try to clean my apartment. I am currently suffering from a bad case of C.H.A.O.S. -- Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome (yes, I made that up, aren't I such a little pointdexter?). So, my job is to bring order to chaos, which is tough for a grrl with anarchist tendencies. I'm much more inclined to want to run around the backyard waving a butterfly net in the middle of winter for no damn reason whatsoever. Maybe this indicates a pressing need to join one of those wacky cacophony societies. Wait, who am I kidding? I'm a one woman cacophony society. There goes that idea. I guess that means I have to do my laundry after all. Damn.
Oh well, at least I can score some more Homies series 8 from the gumball machines at the Laundromat. I could also have a nostalgic Good Humor ice cream cone from the vending machine, but I'm trying to eat better, and the sole disparate item I allowed myself from my recent healthy shopping trip was Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream (it was 50% off, how can a mere mortal resist such things?). Um, yea, and it's keeping with my no deprivation philosophy...I can eat a teaspoon a week, and then walk around the block 17 times. Yea, more like, I promised myself I would not eat it from the pint container with a soup spoon. I have told myself I will put it in a little bowl, and put the pint back in the freezer, otherwise I swear it's like the crack of all dairy products. One minute yer watching TV and delicately skimming off the top frosty layer of chocolate neatly and the next, your spoon is hitting cardboard -- "Wait a minute! How did that happen? Gah!"
In other news, I think it's time to make some coffee, and do something, instead of just writing about doing something. Bleh. Do I hafta? *pout*