Listen: I really like talking to you,
even though I rarely know what to say.
So I just end up asking about your day.
It'd be so much easier if I was right there with you.
But like a chump I'm 1,000 miles away.
See, Darling, I could be your one
if you'd just wait for me.
See, Darling, I'm damning us into oblivion
or reality.
I think you could fit me like a shady hat on a sunny day.
I try to look ahead
but it's like i'm looking in a mirror
to a past that'll never happen
and all my friends are there.
I found a clearing in the mountains
all covered in snow
that felt far below my lowest low.
I saw some guy drop his pants in some big, open first floor window
and he just didn't give a fuck.
you remember jeffrey, don't you?
he's at the bottom of lake emerson
in a pair of cement boots.
like it didn't have to be that way,
like we could've done something
could'a forced him to stay.
When I was 18 some guy told me to take what I can get on a first date, but if she goes to far then know it's just play.
When I was 19 I knew a girl who always smelled like a bar of soap and a fresh cigarette, and she said, "your regrets can all go to hell," and I haven't looked back since.
When I was 23 my old man told me that I can do whatever I want so long as I don't mind where it lands me.
c'mon cat, you're making me nocturnal
you're making my struggle eternal
'cause i can't sleep during the day
with that sun just soaking my face.
last summer,
with the bender to end all benders
but i'm still here
and it's december.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Dead Cats Hanging From Poles
This apartment is shitty in a very literal way-- there are three cats, two humans, and one dog; the fecal stench is nearly overwhelming.
Fuck it. I'll have to battle their nocturnal tendencies. I don't have much of a choice due to my tendencies towards sleeping on a nightly basis.
Fuck it. I'll have to battle their nocturnal tendencies. I don't have much of a choice due to my tendencies towards sleeping on a nightly basis.
We're Drinkers By Day and Bastards By Dawn
it's hard to see an empty plate
and see something funny
but i just can't eat my soul
to fill my belly
it's always your old man for why you smoke cigarettes
and it's always your old man for why you drink beer,
and it's always your old man for why don't don't give a shit
yeah, "my old man..." is all that I hear.
and see something funny
but i just can't eat my soul
to fill my belly
it's always your old man for why you smoke cigarettes
and it's always your old man for why you drink beer,
and it's always your old man for why don't don't give a shit
yeah, "my old man..." is all that I hear.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
(ignore)
well i'm skipping town again
ran away from all my friends
sleeping on some bedroom floor
of some girl i've never met before
1,000 miles of road
with the kills on the stereo
'cause i'm tempted to go back home
16 hours to chicago
didn't come to turn around
or to put some fucking frown
on the front of my face
but i just can't stand this place.
it was supposed to be
just a quiet night out
and it was
'til the bar got loud
you started kicking, and screaming, and flailing around
and you got choked out. yeah you got kicked out.
no, i don't want to live here anymore
with that hole in the middle of your door
and wood shavings all over the floor
ran away from all my friends
sleeping on some bedroom floor
of some girl i've never met before
1,000 miles of road
with the kills on the stereo
'cause i'm tempted to go back home
16 hours to chicago
didn't come to turn around
or to put some fucking frown
on the front of my face
but i just can't stand this place.
it was supposed to be
just a quiet night out
and it was
'til the bar got loud
you started kicking, and screaming, and flailing around
and you got choked out. yeah you got kicked out.
no, i don't want to live here anymore
with that hole in the middle of your door
and wood shavings all over the floor
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Behold the Hurricane.
Sorry to wake you, Stella, but I'm having a kind of crisis. It's 1:30 Mountain time and I'm sitting two stories above the ground, which is itself about one mile above sea level, but my heart is about one thousand miles east. It's in Chicago, of course, but a block and a half north of an intersection that I never would have guessed had I been asked one week ago.
I was more than ready to go-- my friends and family had plenty of notice and, emotionally, the ties were essentially severed. And then-- hey, remember that girl I was really into for a few weeks in April? Well, I got in touch with her, told her I was moving, and made plans to grab a drink. I showed up alone and she brought her friend. That's where the trouble begins, of course. The night was spontaneous and drunken and fun and I, without meaning to, slept over at her friend's house. We were much better acquainted by the time we awoke and I was really excited to see if the preliminary plans we made would hold their ground.
Those plans held true and, though the night started off a bit slow as I dragged my feet through a sandwich and a rough first few shots, the night is etched in my mind as quite possibly my best of all time. It was sad saying goodbye to all my friends and I was so happy that everybody I truly care about actually came out (sans Juan). And it was a little awkward because I see friends like Emma and Dez as really, really great but they were strangers to my older friends. But then I stepped out for a cigarette with this girl who has been occupying a very large portion of my mind since I met her last Wednesday evening, and I kissed her and she kissed me back. And then we were normal again and everything made sense and I was leaving the next day but that was just a fact that didn't seem to have any bearing on our comfort level.
We fell asleep listening to our favorite band, to whom we have commemorated their insignia by way of identical tattoos on our respective bodies. And when we awoke she quit her job to stay in bed for an extra hour, and she drove me to meet my friend and I can still feel that last kiss even though I must have tasted like sleep and cigarettes and stale beer.
And herein lies the dilemma: what am I doing with my life? She said she'd come to visit me in October, which couldn't come soon enough. So what do I do? I'm tempted to drive back to Chicago in two weeks just to say hello. Or maybe I could move to St. Louis and feel closer while not failing on this venture away from home. I suppose this is very premature and I should actively try to ignore this situation. I don't know. If there's someone pulling the strings above the residents of this world then that someone is quite an asshole. She was at nearly every show I went to since freshman year of high school.
I was more than ready to go-- my friends and family had plenty of notice and, emotionally, the ties were essentially severed. And then-- hey, remember that girl I was really into for a few weeks in April? Well, I got in touch with her, told her I was moving, and made plans to grab a drink. I showed up alone and she brought her friend. That's where the trouble begins, of course. The night was spontaneous and drunken and fun and I, without meaning to, slept over at her friend's house. We were much better acquainted by the time we awoke and I was really excited to see if the preliminary plans we made would hold their ground.
Those plans held true and, though the night started off a bit slow as I dragged my feet through a sandwich and a rough first few shots, the night is etched in my mind as quite possibly my best of all time. It was sad saying goodbye to all my friends and I was so happy that everybody I truly care about actually came out (sans Juan). And it was a little awkward because I see friends like Emma and Dez as really, really great but they were strangers to my older friends. But then I stepped out for a cigarette with this girl who has been occupying a very large portion of my mind since I met her last Wednesday evening, and I kissed her and she kissed me back. And then we were normal again and everything made sense and I was leaving the next day but that was just a fact that didn't seem to have any bearing on our comfort level.
We fell asleep listening to our favorite band, to whom we have commemorated their insignia by way of identical tattoos on our respective bodies. And when we awoke she quit her job to stay in bed for an extra hour, and she drove me to meet my friend and I can still feel that last kiss even though I must have tasted like sleep and cigarettes and stale beer.
And herein lies the dilemma: what am I doing with my life? She said she'd come to visit me in October, which couldn't come soon enough. So what do I do? I'm tempted to drive back to Chicago in two weeks just to say hello. Or maybe I could move to St. Louis and feel closer while not failing on this venture away from home. I suppose this is very premature and I should actively try to ignore this situation. I don't know. If there's someone pulling the strings above the residents of this world then that someone is quite an asshole. She was at nearly every show I went to since freshman year of high school.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
The Day The End Finally Came
Well, I'm almost done with this blog and this job and this apartment and this neighborhood and this city. Through the frustrations of moving and constantly battling hangovers, it's a great feeling-- my mattress is more comfortable when I know it's holding me over the ground for the final morning and the view from my balcony gets warmer and warmer as the end of my lease draws closer.
I don't really know what I'm doing with my life. I never really noticed until I sat on a porch in a backyard in Sauganash and listened to my friends discuss industry jargon for their prospective careers. The knowledge in my head is spread thin and, as a result, doesn't add up to much.
I met this girl who's very smart and witty and funny and pretty and skinny and I'm afraid I might really like her.
This post took the past five shifts to get through. I suppose it's fitting that my writing here should finally fade away.
I don't really know what I'm doing with my life. I never really noticed until I sat on a porch in a backyard in Sauganash and listened to my friends discuss industry jargon for their prospective careers. The knowledge in my head is spread thin and, as a result, doesn't add up to much.
I met this girl who's very smart and witty and funny and pretty and skinny and I'm afraid I might really like her.
This post took the past five shifts to get through. I suppose it's fitting that my writing here should finally fade away.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
No More Problems, Problems With Anything
Amy Winehouse is being mocked for dying, Bill O'Reilly believes that, by definition, no true Christian could commit mass murder, and I'm sick of everybody and their rash judgments and outspoken opinions. I don't think it's a stretch to say that most of these people hold their self-image as one that should be revered by everyone.
On facebook, on the day that Amy Winehouse was found dead, an ex-girlfriend of a very good friend of mine said something along the lines of, "How did Amy Winehouse die? Oh wait, hahaha!" I suppose I could be wrong, but I took this to mean, "Amy Winehouse overdosed? Of course she did, hahaha!" In my mind, that's the equivalent of saying, "Your grandmother died of cancer? Of course she did, she had been battling it for the past five years. hahaha!" I don't know. I mean, as far as I know, people seem to have certain proclivities or predispositions towards addictions. Was this facebookie's offhand comment a general denunciation of addicts as lesser people? Or maybe it's blaming her for using her voice to try to make something of her life (funny, considering the aspirations of this particular person)? More likely, I'd say it's disgust that someone seemingly so irresponsible could be ungrateful in an international spotlight (I'd say this would have to be the most elementary of mindsets as fame and fortune aren't cures for... anything).
Underneath it all, this could simply be a grudge against a person I didn't particularly like in the first place. Pretty petty, I suppose, but it's made me a little more empathetic.
Oh, and Bill O'Reilly's just an asshole. Is he really that stupid and self-righteous?
What's happening to me? Am I really passive-aggressively confronting friends' ex-girlfriends and Bill O'Reilly in the one aspect of my life that's meant to be a refuge from the trivialities of tabloids and news commentators with blinders?
On facebook, on the day that Amy Winehouse was found dead, an ex-girlfriend of a very good friend of mine said something along the lines of, "How did Amy Winehouse die? Oh wait, hahaha!" I suppose I could be wrong, but I took this to mean, "Amy Winehouse overdosed? Of course she did, hahaha!" In my mind, that's the equivalent of saying, "Your grandmother died of cancer? Of course she did, she had been battling it for the past five years. hahaha!" I don't know. I mean, as far as I know, people seem to have certain proclivities or predispositions towards addictions. Was this facebookie's offhand comment a general denunciation of addicts as lesser people? Or maybe it's blaming her for using her voice to try to make something of her life (funny, considering the aspirations of this particular person)? More likely, I'd say it's disgust that someone seemingly so irresponsible could be ungrateful in an international spotlight (I'd say this would have to be the most elementary of mindsets as fame and fortune aren't cures for... anything).
Underneath it all, this could simply be a grudge against a person I didn't particularly like in the first place. Pretty petty, I suppose, but it's made me a little more empathetic.
Oh, and Bill O'Reilly's just an asshole. Is he really that stupid and self-righteous?
What's happening to me? Am I really passive-aggressively confronting friends' ex-girlfriends and Bill O'Reilly in the one aspect of my life that's meant to be a refuge from the trivialities of tabloids and news commentators with blinders?
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