you said something that i've never forgotten

on a rooftop in brooklyn
at one in the morning
watching the lights flash
in manhattan

i see fire bridges
the empire state building
and you said something
that i've never forgotten

we lean against railings
describing the colors
and the smells of our homelands
acting like lovers

how did we get here
to this point of living
i held my breath
you said something

and i'm doing nothing wrong
riding in you car
the radio playing
we sing up to the eighth floor

on a rooftop manhattan
one in the morning
you said something
that i've never forgotten

you said something
you said something
you said something
that was really important

have you ever noticed the immense power of words. how something can be said, even a few syllables, in person, in a letter, typed, written, whispered, bled, and everything can just change. or everything can stay the same. go on. or not. but those words, no matter how you try to set them free, they live in the deep folds of your skin. in the taste of life. in the wallpaper of your soul.

i know, for me, i have this insatiable need for words. for that language to ricochet from all corners of my mind, my ears, my lips. i always feel the deep recesses of who i am, overwhelming, over-flowing. i always have so damn much to say. and so much i want to have said. i want to be the catalyst for all the words of everyone to come spilling out. all over. all over me. i feel this need to know. to know so much. to learn. and to hear the flowing of words. again and again.

i hold so many words that have been said inside of me. they sneak out in so much of who i am. in my breathing. in my writing. in the way i think. the way i react. so many nights i lie in bed, sleepless, replaying so many words. over and over. and i dissect too much. i evaluate too much. i read to much into words. but it is who i am. how i am. my own breed of insanity, i suppose.

will you just stand still?

i love them.

some enchanted night i'll be with you

ten people i knew in the world survived. knew is a strange word, though. the ten, well i knew them in that face in the crowd way, not the knowing with any real consequence sort of thing. the girl who rang up my morning coffee who had her bottom lip pierced, and fought every wednesday with her boyfriend on her mobile; trying to text unnoticed under the counter, but whispering each word as her thumbs slammed the tiny keys. she is among us now. the boyfriend may be here come to think of it, but those kind distinctions have become quite hard to tell. coupling lines blur, and bodies cling without much regard to the propriety of love.

there is that boy i dated once. for a week, i think. he had a summer green tint to his once blonde strands; the tell-tale sign of an orange county boy with too much time on his hands, and chlorine soaked in his hair. we drove to santa monica and sat under the pier while i came down off my latest and greatest escape hatch. he let me scream into his hands, and i let him slip his dick into me. a fair trade, it seemed. i tossed his number into the third bin from the left, behind his apartment, as i walked home with sand itchy on my skin. i wonder if he still tastes of peppermint schapps and marlboro lights, or if he has either he would be willing to share.

the rest are nameless. images peeled off of a blueprint memory, faces from train passes and elevator rides, doctor office receptionists and the gas station attendant who used to sing foreigner's urgent out loud and sold me discounted cigarettes with his number slipped inside. it is hard to tell if they recognize me, or what story they try to attach to my skin, pinned on like a kindergarten reminder. we all forget everything eventually, or at least feign at it, posed and smiling as if all this dark was just the contents of a normal day. anymore now they all back away and turn their eyes from mine, afraid that the things i see above will rub off on them, poison the well, so to speak. they huddle in misconceived safety and try to re-write the world. i am not interested in any of the fabrication.

i used to be the girl in the back of the class chewing her nails, and looping letters into lyrical refrains; i would have traded my grandfather's bicentennial coin collection to live within the confines of a song. clumsy and awkward, gifted my life span's height before i hit puberty, towering over all the skinny blondes who fit right into that everybody wants you mold. my first sexual experience was with a shy boy two years trailing behind me, his braces left tears in the inside of my bottom lip, and he kissed with as much grace as two elephants with tied-together trunks.

most days i was just invisible, fading into the grey walls and missed opportunities. it was hard to grow up with the beautiful people when your body screamed ordinary, and hopefully refundable. now my invisibility is just their desperate grasps at denial. no one cares to admit cowardice, or to look the community martyr straight in the eyes. even the ones who empty and re-fill my veins avert my gaze, leaving gashes in my arms, but nothing more. or the ones no one mentions, who gave me the job in the first place, and the names; how they send their troops when my head is blood loss fuzzy, their masks barely registering in my view, just the sharp sting of what they take from my body as i lay their motionless, more dead than the last time. it was one of them who gave me my afterworld name. i can still hear it slithering out of his razor thin lips, burning the skin as he pressed them too close to my ear. we all have them, all the old ones tossed aside like the regret, like yesterdays.

none of us are who we were before.

***

"is this an actual record player?" my voice in a half-whisper of awed reverence as i stare ahead, wanting to slide my fingers across the grooved surfaces, lift the arm and prick my finger on the needle; become some sort monochromed sleeping beauty. i held back though, half-holding my breath as i always did when we shared space.

i could feel him moving across the room before i caught a glimpse in my peripheral vision, his pallor glowing like chunks of moonbeams turned to flesh. the only colour came from his lips, a sudden splash of rose in sharp contrast to the rest of him. later i would write him as a black and white film strip, cary grant caught in a still frame that someone took a permanent marker to. the burst of red came from a recent feed; it would soon spread across his face into a school girl's blush. life temporarily breathed into him from my bloodletting.

miss misery (early version) ~ elliott smith

true love

"all of us have had this experience. at some point, we have each said through our tears, "i'm suffering for a love that's not worth it." we suffer because we feel that we are giving more than we are receiving. we suffer because we feel our love is unrecognised. we suffer because we are unable to impose our own rules. but ultimately there is no good reason for our suffering, for in every love lies the seed of our growth. the more we love, the closer we come to spiritual experience. those who are truly enlightened, those whose souls are illuminated by love, have been able to overcome all the inhibitions and preconceptions of their era. they have been able to sing, to laugh, to pray out loud; they have danced and shared what saint paul called, "the madness of saintliness". they have been joyful - because those who love conquer the world and have no fear of loss. true love is an act of total surrender."

by the river piedra i sat down and wept ~ paulo coelho

your destiny will arrive

(as a little girl in the seventies, i so wanted to grow up and be olivia newton-john - and back then i still believed in magic)

come take my hand
you should know me
i've always been in your mind
you know that i'll be kind
i'll be guiding you

building your dream
has to start now
there's no other road to take
you won't make a mistake
i'll be guiding you

you have to believe we are magic
nothin' can stand in our way
you have to believe we are magic
don't let your aim ever stray
and if all your hopes survive
your destiny will arrive
i'll bring all your dreams alive
for you

from where i stand
you are home free
the planets align so rare
there's promise in the air
and i'm guiding you

through every turn I'll be near you
i'll come anytime you call
i'll catch you when you fall
i'll be guiding you

you have to believe we are magic
nothin' can stand in our way
you have to believe we are magic
don't let your aim ever stray
and if all your hopes survive
your destiny will arrive
i'll bring all your dreams alive
for you

teardrop (live from abbey road)

(love)love is a verb
love is a doing word
feathers on my breath
gentle impulsion
shakes me makes me lighter
feathers on my breath

teardrop on the fire
feathers on my breath

in the night of matter
black flowers blossom
feathers on my breath
black flowers blossom
feathers on my breath

teardrop on the fire
feathers on my breath

water is my eye
most faithful my love
feathers on my breath
teardrop on the fire of a confession
feathers on my breath
most faithful my love
feathers on my breath

teardrop on the fire
feathers on my breath

stumbling a little
stumbling a little

feathers on my breath

big sur, california

the first five songs of the day:

dancing queen ~ abba
st. pauli ~ art brut
one more time (daft punk cover)/my vien ilin (live) ~ ted leo
no birds today ~ cowboy junkies
new york is a woman ~ suzanne vega

apparently my itunes hates me, or went off and took a holiday without me. when i turned on the laptop this morning and opened up itunes she was completely empty. so, i have had to re-load all my folders of music. on the plus side, all those annoying duplicate songs are now not there. also, my itunes seems to have an early morning abba thing going. no matter how i sort my music, as soon as i hit shuffle and play an abba song starts it all up. not the same one, either; she varies with her abba-love.

i have been (re)reading the unbearable lightness of being recently. the last time i read it i was eighteen, and it astounds me how differently the book feels to me now that i'm reading it, some twenty years later. it is one of those books that i want to take in slowly, contemplate all the meanings and layers, and write in the margins. i am reminded of my favorite english proffessor, and how she encouraged us to keep composition books full of our reactions on anything we read; be it a classic piece of literature, a newspaper article, or a comic book. this article is quite keen, and makes me want to grab a copy of big sur and take the drive. visit the nepenthe, the henry miller museum, and talk to the ocean for a bit.

i've also had my mind on san francisco lately. i cannot believe how long it has been since i've been there, and how much i miss it. there was a time when i was younger, and jules was a baby, that i almost moved there. sometimes i think it may be where i end up, after jules has graduated high school and settled into college. i miss the bay area.

today is shoshana's birthday. she is such an incredible soul, full of poetry, wit and genuine kindness. i miss her quite a bit, and often. i was thinking today at how long we've known each other, and how we've both changed and grown in many ways, and how we are the same in other ways. i hope she has an incredible day, and a fantastic new year in her life.

best show on television this summer, besides californication, has been live at abbey road. seriously, the music has been so incredible that i have even been impressed with bands and artists i normally would not listen to. i posted a video from the show, with damien rice, a week or so ago; i will post another incredible one, later today.

a much needed day off today, though i have been checking work email. it was nice to be able to drop the kids off this morning without the typical rushing around and barely breathing ferver. veronica seems to love school, wakes up excited and anxious to get there. at breakfast, at the school, they had breakfast pizza and fruit. the pizza made me smile as it reminded me of post-party cold pizza mornings, especially when i first lived on my own.

kerry, yo gabba gabba is on the television right now. this is the most surreal and hypnotic children's show i have seen in a very long time. it reminds me of a post-modern sid and marty kroft show. max sure seems to love it.

but she couldn't keep baby alive

she's addicted to nicotine patches
she's addicted to nicotine patches
she's afraid of the light in the dark
6:58 are you sure where my spark is
here
here
here

she's convinced she could hold back a glacier
but she couldn't keep baby alive
doubting if there's a woman in there somewhere
here

you say you don't want it again
and again
but you don't really mean it
you say you don't want it
this circus we're in
but you don't you don't really mean it
you don't really mean it

if the divine master plan is perfection
maybe next i'll give judas a try
trusting my soul to the ice cream assassin
here

you say you don't want it again and again
but you don't really mean it
you say you don't want it
this cirucs we're in
but you don't you don't really mean it
you don't really mean it

how may fates turn around in the overtime
ballerinas that have fins that you'll never find
you thought that you were the bomb yeah
well so did i

say you don't want it
say you don't want it
say you don't want it again
and again
but you don't really mean it
say you don't want it
this circus we're in
but you don't you don't really mean it
you don't really mean it

she's addicted to nicotine patches
she's afraid of the light in the dark
6:58 are you sure where my spark is

here

we make it up as we go along

sights and sounds
pull me back down
another year

i was here
i was here

whipping past
the reflecting pool
of me and you
skipping school

and we make it up
as we go along
we make it up we
go along

you said -
you raced from langley -
pulling me underneath
a cherry blossom
canopy
-do i have-
of course i have,
beneath my raincoat,
i have your photographs.
and the sun on your
face
i'm freezing that frame

and somewhere alfie cries
and says "enjoy his every smile
you can see in the dark
through the eyes of laura mars"
how did it go so fast
you'll say
as we are looking
back
and then we'll
understand
we held gold dust
in our
hands

sights and sounds
pull me back down
another year

i was here
i was here

gaslights
glow in the street
(flickering past)
twilight held us
in her palm
as we walked along

and we make it up
as we go along
we make it up as we go along

letting names
hang in the
air
what color hair
(auburn crimson)
autumn knowingly
stared
and the day that
she came
i'm freezing that
frame
i'm freezing that frame

and somewhere alfie
smiles
and says "enjoy her
every cry
you can see in the
dark
through the eyes
of laura mars"

how did it go so
fast
you'll say as we are looking back
and then we'll understand
We held gold dust
in our
hands

in our
hands

'cause it's all going on without you

keep art alive; art is 2h

fate is a tricky thing, transient and confusing. do we create our own versions of fate to comply with our desires, or do we finally reach a point in our lives where we wake up and recognize where are path is clearly drawn? how do we fit the people and things that we collect, and hold close to us, if our enlightenment does not include them? is there really one truth to all of it, one way to go, one choice that will define the steps we take? if we decide that the direction that we see painted on the inside of each eyelid, when we close our eyes and really listen to our soul, is going to include loss or pain - is it still worth it? and what do we make of our lives when we realize the future we held as part of our own has nothing to do with us anymore?

i choose to believe that things happen for a reason, even when that truth is hard to take in, and ever tiresome to hear. that said, i also cling to the belief that we have choices to make, and that fate is like an outline that we can trace, but the colors we choose to decorate it with are still up to us. i choose to believe that the family i have, and the family i have made, is worth everything to me; and in that, i know that i would fight any battle, and traverse any obstacle, if it meant that we all go on another day breathing and learning, singing and listening, and living. the older you get the more you realize that it is rare to meet people who get you, who love you regardless of the mess you may be, and who let you grow and be whoever you truly are.

so, what of fate? i have not sorted out what mine is just yet. i thought i knew what it was, or at least a blurry outline of it. perhaps i was allowing the writer in me to create a future that i wanted to exist in, with people who i trusted my heart with. maybe i have not had that quiet moment of self-revelation, where it all becomes clear. or, the scenario i tend to believe the most in: perhaps there are multiple paths in front of me, some known and some yet to be discovered, and that it is alright not to know just yet. what i do know is that i would never give up on the people i love, nor the family i have, and have made, or been included within; because i know how rare they are, and how fragile and beautiful love is.

let go ~ frou frou

shatter your illusions of love

rock on- gold dust woman
take your silver spoon
and dig your grave

heartless challenge
pick your path and i'll pray

wake up in the morning
see your sunrise- loves- to go down
lousy lovers- pick their prey
but they never cry out loud

did she make you cry
make you break down
shatter your illusions of love
is it over now- do you know how
to pick up the pieces and go home.

rock on- ancient woman
follow those who pale
in your shadow

rulers make bad lovers
you better put your kingdom up for sale

did she make you cry
make you break down
shatter your illusions of love
is it over now- do you know how
to pickup the pieces and go home.

no little girl can stop her world to wait for me

veronica started kindergarten today. this is a moment, a rite of passage, a door opening into another stage of life. nothing will ever be the same again. i watched her as the morning progressed, and all the transitions of mood and energy that rushed in and out of her, in the process. she awoke with a smile, bounding out of bed and to her feet, full of questions and numerous "is it time to go yet?"

new uniforms were put on, finally, as she had been waiting and wanting to wear them since we first bought them. the peter pan collar is my favorite, i love the classic feel to it, and prefer it so much to the polo shirts. julia and i tag-teamed with her hair, straigtening it and pinning it back in colorful clips (the key to personalize uniforms is accessories, so says julia).

on the way out the door, with her arms slipped into her backpack, we stopped for the by the front door photograph. i remember taking them as a child, though mine were taken by the daisy bush, or on the front steps. most of julia's have all been by the front door, though. i love the way the door behind them, in each consecutive year, shows the time pass and the changes in age. even if the door changes, from moves to different houses, the door is still a very stable backdrop and i want to continue the tradition.

off to school we went, and i do believe that my stomach was full of just as many butterflies as veronica's was. moths dressed up in formal gowns, the description kate once told me came to mind as i thought of those fluttering winged nervous butterflies, and it made me momentarily smile. veronica was uncharacteristically quiet as we walked up the path to her school, though she did sample the orange juice from the welcome table, but not the donuts (max was the one to take over that tasting responsibility).

her classroom is number nine (number nine, number nine), and the first thing she commented on was her teacher's pretty pink dress and black shoes, and the play kitchen that she wanted to try out. she was given a name tag, and spoke her name out in the quietest of whispers. as the teacher began welcoming the students, and parents, i watched veronica's eyes wander around the room, and widen to saucer size, as the planned routines were gone over. i know she was overwhelmed, and as big as she looked standing by the front door in her new school uniform, she looked tiny and fragile sitting at one of the kindergarten tables.

when the time came for us to leave i knelt down to say goodbye and give her a hug. it was then that i noticed her small hands shaking. she hugged me tighter than usual, and i was the first to finally pull away (she is usually trying to squirm away from my cuddles, off to take on another playtime adventure). she leaned in close and whispered "you could stay if you want, momma". i had held it together until then, trying to stay strong and appear happy to instill confidence in her, but hearing those words i felt my eyes sting with tears. there was that fleeting thought to scoop her up and take her home with us, but i knew that this was a passing fear, and that she was going to be okay. she hung tightly to her papa's legs, hugging him and pleading with her eyes. i am pretty sure he had that same thought flash through his mind. we both said goodbye, though, and crossed our fingers that it would be a good first day.

my nerves stayed with me as the day wore on. i sat restless at my desk, ever glancing down at the clock waiting it to be time to be picked up. i wanted to hear the stories, and i wanted to know that she had made it through. i jumped the gun with my first phone call, catching david still in the line of cars waiting for pick-up. he called me, though, when they finally made it home. told me how veronica and max hugged each other tightly, when they saw one another. and then, he handed the phone over to veronica. this was her first day of kindergarten report:

"we had hangerburs (intention mis-spell to show her pronunciation) and chocolate milk. my teacher is pretty; i liked her pink dress and black shoes; the boy with the red hair and glasses cried when his momma left, but i did not cry; we played outside for a little bit, but it was too hot; she read us the kissing hand about a raccoon who came to school at night. okay momma, i'm done. bye, i love you."

it sounded like she had quite a time.

how you've grown ~ 10,000 maniacs

and i'm not going back

and i'm not going back into rags or in the hole
and our bruises are coming
but we will never fold

and i was your silver lining
as the story goes
i was your silver lining but now im gold

hooray hooray i'm your silver lining
hooray hooray but now i'm gold.

and i was your silver lining
hop on my toys
well you were running through fields of hitchhikers
as the story goes

hooray hooray i'm your silver lining
hooray hooray but now i'm gold

hooray hooray i'm your silver lining
hooray hooray but now i'm gold

and the grass it was a ticking
and the sun was on the rise
i never felt so wicked
as when i willed our love to die

and i was your silver lining as the story goes
i was your silver lining but now i'm gold

hooray hooray i'm your silver lining
hooray hooray but now i'm gold

hooray hooray i'm your silver lining
hooray hooray but now i'm gold

but now i'm gold
but now i'm gold
but now im gold

music drunk

"for franz music was the art that comes closest to dionysian beauty in the sense of intoxication. no one can get really drunk on a novel or a painting, but who can help getting drunk on beethoven's ninth, bartok's sonata for two pianos and percussion, or the beatles' white album?"

the unbearable lightness of being, milan kundera

so soon just after you've gone my senses sharpen

my first music fandom. i am not sure there are words that could describe what they meant to me, how much i literally ate, drank and breathed them, or how much allowance and babysitting money was spent on anything i could get my hands on that was them. i have a million stories that involve them, some real, and some imagined.

and this video, i had never seen it until tonight. thank you, youtube.

some precious sympathy following...

spartan girl

keep art alive; art by rebecca van stralen

"spartan girl! proud lucy!" she would say, smiling at me. "graham says you are the most peculiar, capricious little woman he knows; but yet you are excellent; we both think so.''

"you both think you know not what," said i. "have the goodness to make me as little the subject of your mutual talk and thoughts as possible. i have my sort of life apart from yours.''

"but ours, lucy, is a beautiful life, or it will be; and you shall share it."

''i shall share no man's or woman's life in this world, as you understand sharing. i think i have one friend of my own, but am not sure, and till i am sure, i live solitary.''

"but solitude is sadness.''

"yes, it is sadness. life, however, has worse than that. deeper than melancholy; lies heartbreak.''

"lucy, i wonder if anyone will ever comprehend you altogether."

villette ~ charlotte brontë

blue songs on a grey day

something about hearing an abba song first thing in the morning makes me inexplicably happy, as does bob dylan following it with it's all over now, baby blue. sometimes the shuffle feature, and a cup of coffee, is enough to get me by. bob is singing tangled up in blue now. this is one of those songs that hits deep beneath the surface, a story that is not mine, but still resonates somehow. i would put it up there with famous blue raincoat as my storytelling musical favorites.

i would love to pen a story about jane. perhaps she met up with bob on the road, or in the topless bar; perhaps he wore a raincoat and gave her a rose before he left her that rainy morning. the rose, she pressed it between the pages of a well-worn copy of on the road, the one she tucked in every bag she took with her everywhere. it has a hole at the bottom, a seam that tore open on a bus up the coast, she patched it up with crimson thread.

now i wonder if there is a blue theme to my day. the sky outside the office window looks grey and overcast, one of those mornings that seem so bleak, but that everyone assures each other will burn off by the afternoon. i just sorted a playlist by the word blue. do you ever do that? pick a word and see what it brings? the blue songs bring to mind blue characters, blue from desert blue, blue from old school and how that became my younger brother's nickname when he went to university because he was older than his roommates. perhaps jane goes by the name azure when she dances at the topless place, a connection back to that blue raincoat, the last glimpse of him that she caught as the bus pulled away.

and this, my friends, is how my mind works.

it's all over now, baby blue ~ bob dylan

unsent

keep art alive; art by kelly vivanco

forgotten saturdays
yesterdays
lemonade stand driveways
sidewalk chalk bubblegum flavoured
never ways

she tangles daisy chains and grass stains
late night coin operated washing machine dreams
she asks the mislead father time
why has the moon gone bad
again

bounce the ball
pick up the jacks
one by two by three by four

finding answers in the skinned knee boy
kissed chapped lips like love
rose bush scratch scars
bloodletting
happy endings

she wonders where he left the remnants of a daughter
hair curls and five snaps down the backside
osh kosh
sears clearance sale
dirt
tear stains
wisp of a promise
blown out candlelight birthday cake
shut your eyes

one by two by twelve by fourteen
she grows and grows
he never knows
(written by me)

i know where the summer goes ~ belle & sebastian

some sort of beautiful

turn into the most beautiful sound you can make: a mix for a tuesday

overture ~ patrick wolf
paint's peeling ~ rilo kiley
antichrist television blues ~ arcade fire
the sandringham line ~ the lucksmiths
heartbeats ~ the knife
easy ~ faith no more
bridge & tunnel ~ the honorary title
pretty in pink ~ the national
ask her to dance ~ coconut records
back to me ~ jackson united
the ballerina blues ~ the oohlas
deeper shade of soul ~ urban dance squad
flashdance...what a feeling ~ irene cara
black boys on mopeds ~ sinead o'connor
the boy who blacked his own shot ~ brand new
come clean ~ eisley
community ~ mirah & spectratone international
cover your eyes ~ the straylight run
drugs or me (styrofoam remix) ~ jimmy eat world

tuesday mix zipped

i like messy

"you need boundaries between you and the rest of the world. other people are far too messy. it's all about lines. drawing lines in the sand and praying like hell no one crosses them. at some point you have to make a decision. boundaries don't keep other people out, they fence you in. life is messy. that's how we're made. so you can waste your life drawing lines or you can live your life crossing them. but there are some lines that are way too dangerous to cross. here's what I know, if you're willing to take the chance, the view from the other side is spectacular."

meredith grey, grey's anatomy

racing through our goodbyes

keep art alive; art by kelly vivanco

and i don't mind waiting: a mix for a monday

addictive ~ faithless
all flowers in time ~ jeff buckley & elisabeth fraser
the wonder ~ the figurines
make up ~ elefant
miles from our home ~ cowboy junkies
positively 4th street ~ bob dylan
fast as you can ~ fiona apple
now that you're gone ~ ryan adams & the cardinals
goodbye girl ~ colin meloy
the don ~ the view
pay for me ~ the national
broken window ~ arcade fire
roxy ~ concrete blonde
venus stop the train ~ wilco
in the time we've got ~ the one a.m. radio
true blue ~ bright eyes
the underdog ~ spoon
capturing moods ~ rilo kiley
only you ~ cary brothers

monday mix zipped

the moon heals

moon healing escalation

(9.23.01)

this is it, my part of the porch,

the cold cement, rain dripping from the rafters,

ash on the petals, my toes going to ice,

your lonely lovely little heat vampire,

ready to suck you clean.

and the cheshire cat is carved out of the sky,

peering, coming unglued, i think he may fall this time.

i feel the rhythm of too many stories in my skin,

ribbet ribbet, the frog leaps into my hair, tattered,

tangled, this is what it comes to, and i could kiss him,

isn't that what they say,

spread my poisonous wishes,

make myself a man.

i think i've lost my will to imagine, to strive to

drive the canyon floor route to my old me,

i left my soul on the side of the road,

you can see it when you drive by,

rotting, risking,

reeling in the guilt tread tire marked what if's.

what if.

maybe i should open a vein.

maybe i should close the blinds.

maybe i should shut my mouth.

maybe i should just wait for the endorphins to rush in, take me away,

heal me, hurt me, rip open the pores of my ever-smiling face.

i want you to see through the escalations,

the drama-queen purrs and pounces,

find the reason of the girl

in the whore in the mother of pearl.

find my spot on the porch,

with the rain, the flooding

choking monster of regrets and wonder.

caffeine.

nicotine.

reasoning.

and i wish and i may that this night was upon you and

i and him and everything just would disappear and run

around and back again. make sense again. be true

again.

and the moon, and your voice, the hoarseness of too

many, too much, too little.

come back frog, come back cat.

give me my happy go lucky ending, let the credits

roll, a final kiss, a last breath, give me something i

can take home with me, a piece of something that will

keep me sane, keep me chained, keep me here and now

and not on this porch, but with you, in you,

satisfied.

but this is never satisfaction, the moon heals, but i

wander, the heart still wanders.
(written by me)

honey & the moon ~ joseph arthur

shadows of ourselves

for all the good you say it does,

it seems no better when you've had your say.

you may believe it's just because

the words get colder when you've gone away.

i thought i understood what i was to you.

i don't want to feel this way, no,

i don't want to say i'm just a friend.

i don't want to wait around here

'cause you don't want to feel no pain again.

we just lie about it

as we become shadows of ourselves.

some may fear committed lives.

i sure am one of them without you.

does it come to you as some surprise

i laid the ground beneath to doubt you?

was it ever something you could hold?

i don't want to feel this way, no,

i don't want to say i'm just a friend,

i don't want to wait around here
'cause you don't want to feel no pain again.

we just lie about it

as we become shadows of ourselves.

i don't want to look away.

i don't want to be the one denied.

it ain't no fault of mine

if someone somewhere told you lies.

we don't talk about it.

we just become shadows of ourselves.

we don't talk about it.

we just become shadows of ourselves.

in the absence of sun ~ duncan sheik

the song that'll deliver me

by, oh by, the way
of an explanation
cast adrift
off the shores of shotter’s nation
i had a look in,
cave my skull in like a prick
oh now
what use am i to anyone?
forlorn, frozen,
beneath the summer
don’t sing along
or you’ll get what i’ve got, oh

here comes a delivery
straight from the heart of my misery
so, comes a delivery
straight from the heart, to you.

yeah you, now you, now you
you’ve finally left school
oh what on earth
do you intend to do?
see if you can,
take the man, go round town
where all your skins, and mod’s
you get together
make pretend
it’s 1969 forever
find a girl, have a drink,
have a dance and play

the song that’ll deliver me
straight from the harshness of misery
cos this songs a delivery
straight from the heart to you

yes here comes a delivery
straight from the heart of my misery
oh that song that’ll deliver me
straight from the heart, to you

so here comes a delivery
straight from the heart of my misery
here comes a delivery
straight from the heart, to you

i guess everything is timing

keep art alive; art by jaime zollars

how can i go home
with nothing to say
i know you're going to look at me that way
and say what did you do out there
and what did you decide
you said you needed time
and you had time

you are a china shop
and i am a bull
you are really good food
and i am full
i guess everything is timing
i guess everything's been said
so i am coming home with an empty head

you'll say did they love you or what
i'll say they love what i do
the only one who really loves me is you
and you'll say girl did you kick some butt
and i'll say i don't really remember
but my fingers are sore
and my voice is too

you'll say it's really good to see you
you'll say i missed you horribly
you'll say let me carry that
give that to me
and you will take the heavy stuff
and you will drive the car
and i'll look out the window making jokes
about the way things are

how can i go home
with nothing to say
i know you're going to look at me that way
and say what did you do out there
and what did you decide
you said you needed time
and you had time

you had time (live) ~ ani difranco

now isn't it obvious

keep art alive; art by caia koopman

somedays it amazes me how quickly the time passes, how far i have already traveled in my life, and yet, how often adolescent, or naive, i feel. i still play music far too loud in the car, and i sing along; my own little concert on wheels as i roll along the 101 freeway. i still feel confused by love, and boys, and the dynamics between finding someone who fits with who you are, and actually taking the steps of being with them. on the flipside, i feel that i have volumes of life behind me, and novels worth of things to say about all of it. i feel a chaotic whirlwind of knowing and confusion, desire and regret, doubt and belief; and the unmistakeable pull of some invisible internal cord that whispers and sings to me, reminding me that i am ready for more.

last night i stood in my kitchen, steadying myself against the kitchen counter, chopping up various summer fruits that i'd gathered up from my favorite neighborhood produce market. i have been struggling with dizziness all week, a shaky feeling that comes and goes more frequently the last few days, most often when i try to concentrate on anything. at first, i thought it was anxiety. i have certainly had my share of it lately, and i am in this state of mind where i feel overwhelmed, and that everything is in constant disarray. i do not do well when everything seems disjointed and messy; it leaves me feeling out of breath, frustrated, and unhinged. i have lived with anxiety before, though, and this feels different. my head is spinning, as if i have had that one drink too many, when everything keeps moving even when you stop and close your eyes. i lay awake at night feeling my head swirl, and listening to the pounding of my heart, counting the beats, questioning whether they are faster than before.

perhaps this is a breakdown. today i cannot seem to stop crying, and my temper was lit up like fucking disneyland fireworks. i know i need to find some balance, that i have been working too many hours and not allowing myself any time for life. i also know that i have hidden in that, a bit. my life feels so contradicting and overwhelming that i am not sure what the solutions look like anymore. i feel like i need a life assistant to come in and help me sort out things; someone to feng shui my everything, or at least to hold my hand while i cry some more. i feel like having an all-out sulk on the floor, completely adolescent style angst and self-indulgent pout and pity. inside the pieces are not sticking together any longer, and in all this shuffle and shift, i feel rollarcoaster sick to my stomach.

veronica drew me a picture to "make you happy again, momma", and max slid his hands down my damp cheeks saying "don't cry". and, it all just makes me more upset at myself, as i loathe them to see me broken down.

i swore i would never let my children witness me falling apart. it just makes me feel like a terrible mother, and yet another thing i am failing at. that familiar urge to run is sitting heavy on me, and i am trying to mock it, stick my tongue out irreverently, tell it to sod off; i promised that we would not leave for a few more years. so, i sit here and try to breathe. i try to make friends with the side of me that knows this will pass, and the other part that wants to stomp her feet and wail at the moon. they are all me, and i am all them. and, it is becoming quite clear that i want, need, crave more from this life of mine.

some people hide their emotions

and some people show too much

i'm aiming for somewhere central

nosebleed (acoustic) ~ maximo park

you just keep on pushing my love over the borderline

happy birthday, madonna.

first bits of high school. i wore lace in my hair like that, denim jackets, and those sunglasses.

those were the days of girl group aspirations, plots to move to london, to re-invent myself. i always loved this era of madonna best (though i'm also quite fond of the 'like a prayer' time, too).

***

something in the way you love me wont let me be
i dont want to be your prisoner so baby wont you set me free
stop playing with my heart
finish what you start
when you make my love come down
if you want me let me know
baby let it show
honey dont you fool around

just try to understand, i've given all i can,
cause you got the best of me

borderline feels like i'm going to lose my mind
you just keep on pushing my love over the borderline

keep on pushing me baby
don't you know you drive me crazy
you just keep on pushing my love over the borderline

something in your eyes is makin' such a fool of me
when you hold me in your arms you love me till i just cant see
but then you let me down, when i look around, baby you just cant be found
stop driving me away, i just wanna stay,
theres something i just got to say

just try to understand, i've given all i can,
cause you got the best of me

keep on pushing me baby
don't you know you drive me crazy
you just keep on pushing my love over the borderline

look what your love has done to me
come on baby set me free
you just keep on pushing my love over the borderline
you cause me so much pain, i think i'm going insane
what does it take to make you see?
you just keep on pushing my love over the borderline

rootless tree (fuck you), from live at abbey road

what i want from you
is empty your head
they say be true,
don't stain your bed
we do what we need to be free
and it leans on me
like a rootless tree

what i want from us
is empty our minds
we fake a fuss
and fracture the times
we go blind
when we've needed to see
and this leans on me
like a rootless...

so fuck you
and all we've been through
i said leave it
it's nothing to you
and if you hate me
then hate me so good that you can let me out
let me out of this hell when you're around

what i want from this
is learn to let go
no not of you
of all that's been told
killers reinvent and believe
and this leans on me
like a rootless...

so fuck you
and all we've been through
i said leave it
it's nothing to you
and if you hate me
then hate me so good that you can let me out
let me out of this hell when you're around

let me out...

and fuck you,
fuck you,
i love you
and all we've been through
i said leave it
it's nothing to you
and if you hate me
then hate me so good that you can let me out

let me out...

it's hell when you're around

and it's hard to say you don't

i stumble halfheartedly through the day to day,

picking up strays.

thoughts, grey hair, memories.

sometimes it all appears to me like a snapshot,

of someone else's place to be.

and, i'm just a shadow reflected on the wall.

stuck,

in the flickering brush of your lashes,

on your rosy blushed cheeks.

i wonder how we ended up in this carousel ride,

circling around,

flailing,

arms in the air, eyes closed, mesmerized.

did i once roll an ice blue pair of dice?

were you blindfolded and spun around?

your finger landing here now today.

saying here it is,

where i choose to go.

choose to be, choose to love,

choose to breathe.

or, because my other hand was full of decay.

i lie awake as the numbers switch and fade,

time is just a lyrical dream to me now.

when you see the day from the night,

upside down,

writing while the world sleeps,

there are answers that nobody cares to acknowledge.

the light makes them too blind to see.

and, i'm not sure if i chose well,

or if i just let it all choose me.

you hand me the dice and say it's your turn,

roll again,

but i pass.

i'm worn,

consequence might look better on a different girl.
(written by me)

driving with the brakes on ~ del amitri

i know i'm alone if i'm with or without you

there's blood in my mouth 'cause i've been biting my tongue all week
i keep on talkin' trash but i never say anything

and the talkin' leads to touchin'
and the touchin' leads to sex
and then there is no mystery left

and it's bad news
baby i'm bad news
i'm just bad news, bad news, bad news

i know i'm alone if i'm with or without you
but just bein' around you offers me another form of relief

when the loneliness leads to bad dreams
and the bad dreams lead me to callin' you
and i call you and say "c'mere!"

and it's bad news
baby i'm bad news
i'm just bad news, bad news, bad news

and it's bad news
baby it's bad news
it's just bad news, bad news, bad news

'cause you're just damage control
for a walking corpse like me - like you

'cause we'll all be
portions for foxes
yeah we'll all be
portions for foxes

there's a pretty young thing in front of you
and she's real pretty and she's real into you
and then she's sleepin' inside of you

and the talkin' leads to touchin'
then touchin' leads to sex
and then there is no mystery left

and it's bad news
i don't blame you
i do the same thing
i get lonely too

and you're bad news
my friends tell me to leave you
that you're bad news, bad news, bad news

that you're bad news
baby you're bad news
and you're bad news
baby you're bad news

and you're bad news
i don't care i like you
and you're bad news
i don't care i like you
i like you

what we miss

"you'll see when you move out it just sort of happens one day, one day and it's just gone. and you can never get it back. it's like you get homesick for a place that doesn't exist. i mean it's like this rite of passage, you know. you won't have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. i miss the idea of it. maybe that's all family really is. a group of people who miss the same imaginary place."

andrew, garden state

i've got nothing to do today but smile

"good luck exploring the infinite abyss."

andrew, garden state

they taught you how to feel

keep art alive; art by kelly haigh

i feel a bit rough around the edges. as if there are parts of me that have just been cut out. molded. shaped. but with scissors that are just a bit warped. a little bend to the left. and now i just hang a little crooked. nothing seems to fit around me. i am more comfortable naked and wrapped in a blanket. i feel that too much of me is opening up to the world. i'm not ready for all the scrutiny. but yet, i'm still running around with no clothes on.

i used to feel so alive with you. i used to feel so okay to be one of your conquests. i didn't count on caring this much. i didn't anicipate getting so cold. you are used to me now. i don't think i can hang you on my sleeve anymore. my heart is full of holes and you pour out of it a little bit each day. leaking out of me in tears and shouts. i don't want to sponge you off the ground and bathe in it any longer. i want to bleed until i'm dry. i want the desert inside of me. i want to feel sand cut my throat and burn my eyes. i need to feel nothing.

today i lined up fifty masks. i named them all. gave them days of the week. but sometimes the choices overwhelm me. i don't know how to fit inside of them anymore. i forget which one you prefer. what do i wear when i'm alone? which one allows me to wear the red dress and the fuck-me heels? is this the one for the big promotion? the two drink minimum? i feel lost. i feel faceless. raw. exposed.

i carry too many titles. i've had them in me for the all of my life. i was a mother before i could even conceive. a lover before i knew what love was. a child for only a breath of time. it is hard to balance being a woman and being me. i sit here. look in the mirror. shout out my names. make faces. i spit at the images. i laught until i cry. i'm singing now. rocking back and forth. angel. devil. innocent one. slut. liar. saint. mother. daughter. sister. friend. lover. hater. manipulator. truster. betrayer. employee. negotiator. loser. succeeder. geek. tormentor. woman. girl. bitch. educator. student. confused. conflicted. strong. weak. dead. alive.

i run up the stairs now. jumping two at a time. i can't wait to reach the top. i'm naked still. unabashedly so. running the water in the bath. diving in. drowning in my own juices. all that i am. drinking in the dirt and decay. wiping all the days mistakes off. i watch them spin down the drain. i feel new now. ready to face the day. maybe i will wear the happy mask. the one with the big, bright smile. the one meant for first days of school. for auditions. for parent-teacher conferences. first dates. anniversaries. for my mother. for you.
(written by me)

avalanche ~ ryan adams