Current Mood: listless Current Music: elliot smith- tomorrow, tomorrow
"...I got static in my head the reflected sound of everything tried to go to where it led but it didn't lead to anything
"the noise is coming out and if it's not out now I know it's just about to drown tomorrow out"
but beside that
the first rehearsal went well. i'm excited for this show. it's about the mysterious death of the famous jazz musician chet baker in an amsterdam hotel room. the script (and this is to you, megan) reads like the verse of Jacko Kerouaco. emily told us she wants the production to be a collaborative piece of art between writer, director, actors and musicians. a jazz blowing, beat poetry extravaganza and my hands in the paint. whoa fella. bliss in my briches.
breathing deep into my feet feeling the world supporting my head but all those piggies are just doing their own thing and my skull feels as heavy as led
i climbed over walls to get here that last one, i fell over the end now i'm carrying my body in a green, beaten bag waiting for someone to put me back together again
the shy eyed little guy is taking over this time around, i'll let him out to see what guys like us can do when you set them free
these thoughts lodged in my throat they're making me bleed but when all the wounds have calloused over dinner won't come, no matter how much they plead
but kids still remember their first lesson was life so i'll try it once again: lift my head, plant my feet and if you stubble upon my body and notice it's different i've signed over the lease - a pad I entreat
to the shy eyed little guy, taking over, moving in i've got to let him out to see what guys like us can do when you set them free
moving through space letting it move through me moving through space letting it move through me....
I am out here studying stones Trying to learn to be less alive Using all of my will To keep very still Still even on the inside
I've cut all of the pertinent wires So my eyes can't make that connection I am holding my breath I am feigning my death When i'm looking in your direction
'Course numb is an old hat Old as my oldest memories See that one's my mother And that one's my father And the one in the hat, that's me It's a skill i'd hoped to abandon When I got out on the open road But anymore pent up emotion And I think I'm ganna explode
There's never been an endeavor so strange Then trying to slow the blood in my veins To keep my face blank As a stone that just sank Until not a ripple remains
I am high above the tree line Sitting crossed-legged on the ground When all the forbidden fruit has fallen and rotted Well that's when I'm ganna come down
'Course numb is an old hat Old as my oldest memories See that one's my mother And that one's my father And the one in the hat, that's me It's a skill I'd hoped to abandon When I got out on the open road But anymore pent up emotion and I think I'm ganna explode
You must be wondering how the boy next door turned out have a care / but don't stare because he's still there lamenting:
"policewomen, policemen, silly women, taxmen - uniformed whores they who wish to hurt you work within the law this world is full / so full of crashing bores and I must be one 'cause no one ever turns to me to say 'take me in your arms take me in your arms / and love me'"
your must be wondering how the boy next door turned out have a care / and say a prayer because he's still there lamenting:
"policewomen, policemen, silly women, taxmen - uniformed whores educated criminals work within the law this world is full / so full of crashing bores and I must be one 'cause no one ever turns to me to say 'take me in your arms take me in your arms / and love me and love me...'"
What really lies beyond the constraints of my mind? could it be the sea? with Fate mooning back at me? no, it's just more lock-jawed pop-stars thicker than pig-shit / nothing to convey so scared to show intelligence it might smear their lovely career this world - I am afraid is designed for crashing bores I am not one / I am not one you don't understand you don't understand / and yet you can take me in your arms and love me / love me and love me take me in your arms and love me love me / love me take me in your arms and love me take me in your arms and love me would you do / what you should do
i'm looking back on the things i've done - the things i've learned, the people i've loved, the choices i've made, the unbearable pain, the unbelievable happiness, the indescribable
all swirled in color
in my bones
and here stands this odd creature, primed to become a real life human being
stepping out into the clearing to let life throw what colors it will
with arms stretched to the sky, offering himself to the clouds, the sun and every waking moment
REM - Nightswimming Nightswimming deserves a quiet night. The photograph on the dashboard, taken years ago, Turned around backwards so the windshield shows. Every streetlight reveals the picture in reverse. Still, it’s so much clearer. I forgot my shirt at the water’s edge. The moon is low tonight.
Nightswimming deserves a quiet night. I’m not sure all these people understand. It’s not like years ago, The fear of getting caught, Of recklessness and water. They cannot see me naked. These things, they go away, Replaced by everyday.
Nightswimming, remembering that night. September’s coming soon. I’m pining for the moon. And what if there were two Side by side in orbit Around the fairest sun? That bright, tight forever drum Could not describe nightswimming.
You, I thought I knew you. You I cannot judge. You, I thought you knew me, This one laughing quietly underneath my breath. Nightswimming.
The photograph reflects, Every streetlight a reminder. Nightswimming deserves a quiet night, deserves a quiet night.
The sprinklers always go off at 8 o'clock. today, the tuck tuck tuck shhh of their labor became the accompaniment to the final ballad of an entire life. the morning was quiet and clear, unveiled by a bright, far-away sun and heralded by a lone robin amid the trees, crying out in desparation for something it couldn't see. he sat on the curb, to the left of the driveway, facing east, and with head bowed. the bright yellow, horizontal light cast shadows on the pebbles before his feet. miniture cities were revealed, just like when he was a little kid. he grabbed two handfuls of grass from the well-treated lawn and heard the familiar, muffled pops of grass blades being ripped from their stems. only now did it strike him how much it sounded like fireworks. he let the fireworks slip out of his fingers and fall down to the asfalt. what a site it must have been for those pint-sized people, looking out their windows. at this shining moment in time, he's eager yet hesitant - relieved yet sad. he's almost done waiting. soon he will been headed down the street to find out what the people think of his fireworks. but now, he's left with saying goodbye to his robin. now he must ask him to stop his song.
everytime I want it to shiver from my skull to my fingers i get hit by the bars of the coon trap that i've found myself in, but here goes nothing.
deep breath
maybe i am self-absorbed and detached. maybe i'm aloof more often than not as each day passes. can i blame it on america? sure. it's an easy target. nice and broad. but no, i place the blame on charles darwin.
i'm electrifing the jellyfish. i'm churning and yerning for something better. i'm living it the way the bacteria lived it: in a stew, in a cloud, in a womb and then howling aloud toward the face of the unknown. i'm shifting ground, hurricanes huffing and puffing and blowing down the foundations of thought imposed on this sacred land; dissolving the easy pass lanes of insight to substitute emotion splenda atkins atkins atkins atkins atkins atkins and getting nice and scrapped up for walking in the unfathomable magnificence that is life.
but they don't have a fucking clue. not one fuck head. well, maybe half a fuck head. but this robotic satellite chick keeps sending down probes to forecast the weather and they feel more like ticks trying to suck me dry. i shake'um off and keep trying to find the words to convey that vanity, whether pride in physical appearance or the appearance on one's personality/abilities/prospects, is used to mask an emptiness, and until you confront that emptiness, you won't ever have a life of your own. you'll just feed on the recognition of others, taking their praise and respect because you have none for yourself.
so maybe i'm self-absorbed and detached. but i'm readapting, and this time it's on my terms, and this time it's organic.
If my life were a movie there would be a sunset and the camera would pan away but the sky is just a little sister tagging along behind the buildings trying to imitate their grey the little boys are breaking bottles against the sidewalk the big boys, too the girls are hanging out at the candy store pumping quarters into the phone 'cause they don't want to go home
and I think, what if no one's watching what it when we're dead, we're just dead what if it's just us down here what if god ain't looking down what if he's looking up instead
if my life were a movie I would light a cigarette and the smoke would curl around my face everything I do would be interesting I'd play the good guy in every scene but I always feel I have to take a stand and there's always someone on hand to hate me for standing there I always feel I have to open my mouth and every time I do I offend someone somewhere
but what what if no one's watching what if when we're dead, we're just dead what if there's no time to lose what if there's things we gotta do things that need to be said
you know I can't apologize for everything I know I mean you don't have to agree with me but once you get me going you better just let me go we have to be able to criticize what we love say what we have to say 'cause if you're not trying to make something better as far as I can tell you're just in the way
I mean what what if no one's watching what if when we're dead we're just dead what if it's just us down here what if god is just an idea someone put in your head
I mean what what if no one's watching what if no one's watching...
If my life were a movie there would be a sunset and the camera would pan away but the sky is just a little sister tagging along behind the buildings trying to imitate their grey
what if no one's watching what if no one's watching...
look at my fucking dorsal fin! have you seen what you've done?! hunch slumped in a wheel chair tucked away in forgetten residential varicose veined behind runnered stockings, turned every half hour, coutless needles, fogged eyes filtered water emptied over leagues of concrete sterile as piss in the bedpan you insidious capters of half souls! devising thick tanker spill of green sludge to replace the leaves and branches fuery! anger of your sequester! upheaval is comin no matter how hard your grip on the astroturf the roots have started rumblin to rectify the deforestation while all your guns and cement trucks and commercial/governmental conglomerates and gimmicks and headlines and kidnappings are paving the desert you, dear warden, will have to face your eventual loss of station because there's a holy, hidden, ever increasing line of us wheeling our way to the surf
drip. rolled down my body wave of overcast clouds my mind clogs my heart circles my spirit. blinding the doe-eyed from my line of sight called spectrum. blocking blocking blocking blocking blocking blocking the hope........ i need to believe. diagnose me. analyze me. rationalize me into easy angular blocks no sticks no bees to buzz or sting. my mind has taken control and is eroding my eroding m eroding erodin erodi erod ero er e soul. to see the 20/20 stars in my life the reality shivering in the cold grave of truth about humanity today. learning while never applying. feeling while never expressing. waiting cocooned for a geyser erupt from inside with beauty rarity spectacular. it's a bad dream illustrious leading up a staircase topless marathon. i'm stumbling in the dark for the light switch. i have to find my clothes. i have to let go of night vision. i have to let this tear hit the ground and let reality see that i still can rise above it. ready? drip.
thank you my friends for the diamond bullets you shot at me. they broke me open like a piñata.
1. Go to your livejournal's archives. 2. Go to your 23rd post. 3. Copy and paste your fifth sentence (or close enough to it.)
"megan's dad needs to be separated from his genitals"
i guess some things never change
oh, and I would also like to note that in this entry, I said that I had a crush on a girl, Sarah, from my homeroom, but I thought she was out of my league. Thankfully, some things do change.
fantastic fieldtrip. the absolute best. i learned tons about marine life and research. i toke notes for hours upon hours and ate it all up. i found and researched buckets of interesting animals and plants. i kissed daedra. i learned how to juggle sort of. i had a conversation with mr. christ about politics and religion. i failed horribly at spoons. i formed fellowship with allan bruce, matt bergy, kyle dietz, dave hollenbach and geoff reindina. i walked on a beautiful, untouched beach that goes on for miles, covered with priceless jewels of the ocean. i held the bleached skeleton of a beached baby dolphin. i conned allan into finding an imaginary bird while everyone prepared his suprise birthday party. I played football, ultimate frisbe and capture the flag. i rediscovered my love for the outdoors and play. i laughed until my sides hurt. i discovered other people's perspectives and found friendship among kids i have hardly shared a word with before. i basked in the sun with allan, mary, kyle and katie and came out with a glorious sunburn. i watched blue crabs feast on shrimp, fish and parts of other blue crabs. i feasted on shrimp, fish and parts of other blue crabs. i learned. i embraced. i pondered. i beheld nature. i rolled around in life and came out filthy clean renewed.
no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no couch no contact no tongue no warmth no ben no indulgence in your DIGUSTING LIFESTYLE no seeing no hearing no acknowledging it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it the issue the stigma the abnormality oh, no no quirk, right? unique, right? all better, right? just stay out of the light
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icybluesun's journal
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