you-ward

summons (or this won't hurt you a bit, and it'll cheer me up) ~ mary karr

for an instant i looked away, and an ocean
blossomed between us, 3000 miles
of wild silk rippling. on the other side

your unreachable body. listen,

the globe's meridians bore me,

and i deplore time zones and the lone heart's

metronome without your broad chest

thumping close counterpoint. no breath i draw

will properly fill my lungs till your fine spirit

again issues into me. no eyes will level pierce

this heart's core till your gaze again

sends the deep arrows flying. darling,

remember: our faces in proximity make

a pure small space -- a vessel or goblet

that could hold the whole atlantic. always

i stare you-ward: come spill yourself in me.

happy birthday max

on the last day of may, four years ago, you were born and in that time you have changed my life forever. you are the best bits and pieces of family, and of those who love you. you have connections on both sides of the ocean, and sometimes i think that you are some of that magic that keeps us all together.

since the first time you heard this song, and everytime since (no matter what version or incarnation), you have loved it. danced around and asked for it, again and again, especially the oh, oh, oh, oh's at the start. now you drum to it, as you seem to have rhythm and the count of numbers as part of your inner-workings. today you stood up on the arm of the couch and sang along, the vaccuum as your microphone.

four years ago you came along and there is not a day i am not grateful. you help me see the world differently, and you teach me about strength and gentleness, trust and silence, and to pay attention to the smallest details (like a change in breath, a barely there sound, the backbeat in a song). i love you, max. thank you for being my son.

happy birthday. and here, another go at the song. yeah, i'll turn it up all the way.

promise

the episode was called 'the constant', and was about time shifting and travel, losing yourself, and how there is one thing that is each person's constant. there is more to it, more to the plot and construct of the series, but even if taken out of context it is moving, and meaningful.

one must remember the constants in our lives, and when we find that, we should never give it up.

it's easy

"there's nothing you can make that can't be made.
no one you can save that can't be saved.
nothing you can do but you can learn how to be in time.
it's easy.

all you need is love."

never know where the ones with the dreams go

tired of england ~ dirty pretty things

"how can they be tired of london?
the scents in the air on a warm day,
generation of hope that sees better days,
but moving along in the same old ways."

first single and video release, from the upcoming album romance at short notice. good on you, boys.

found in translation

east of eden

"i'll be, leaving town
on the very next train.
come with me little girl.

but i won't be coming, back again now.
it ain't nobody's business if i do."

j’espère avec tout ma cœur.

je t'aime, chéri.

you could make a killing

"i wish i was both
young and stupid."

sometimes i find myself knee-deep in nostalgia, wishing for a past that has those gold-rimmed truths that really aren't so true. memory paints itself the way the soul wants to see it, and in all the ways i was stronger then, i was weaker, too. i suppose we trade life for wisdom, mistrust for compassion, indecision for hope. though sometimes what you take with you is insecurity, loss, and the internalized self-loathing.

i cringe sometimes at how entertained we all are by self-deprecating humor. not that i am any better at it, not at all. it is always so easier to cling to misery, to fear, to obstacles. to lose yourself so completely that you settle for less because maybe you never had better, or perhaps you keep being reminded that you are not good enough for what you truly want.

so we run, we collapse, we hide, and we crumble. for me, sometimes i wish for when i was younger. a trick i play with my heart that i felt more then, or took to heart less. always the one to love less, to hide more, to act rash in ways that ultimately pulled the rug out from under me.

how does one break that cycle though? how does one take the steps towards being the person they are meant to be?

as though nothing could fall

"though nothing,
will keep us together,
we could steal time,
just for one day."

some people save you and never know they have, and some people they disappear before you've had enough time to save them right back. this is for one of those people.

it looks like darkness to me

"can i say,
i wish that this weather would never leave?
it just gets hard to believe,
that god sent this angel to watch over me.

cause my angel,
(s)he don't receive my calls,
says i'm to dumb to fuck,
to dumb to fight,
to dumb to save.

well, maybe i don't need no angel at all."

how i wish you could see the potential

"how i wish you could see the potential,
the potential of you and me.
it's like a book elegantly bound,
but in a language that you can't read - just yet.

you gotta spend some time, love,
you gotta spend some time with me.
and i know that you'll find, love,
i will possess your heart,
i will possess your heart.

there are days when outside your window,
i see my reflection as i slowly pass.
and i long for this mirrored perpective,
when we'll be lovers,
lovers at last.

you gotta spend some time, love,
you gotta spend some time with me.
and i know that you'll find, love,
i will possess your heart,
i will possess your heart.

i will possess your heart,
i will possess your heart.

you reject my advances,
and desperate pleas.
i won't let you,
let me down so easily,
so easily.

you gotta spend some time, love,
you gotta spend some time with me.
and i know that you'll find, love,
i will possess your heart,
i will possess your heart.

i will possess your heart,
i will possess your heart."

oh my stars, the new death cab for cutie is fucking amazing. and this video, the mood set in a way that is reminiscent of lost in translation, and the girl in it, so much like charlotte, wandering around in a city alone, in search of her self. something about that, it pulls at my inner workings, and my desires to just be free.

soft explosions that blossom with the beat of my heart

ride ~ azure ray

"today i'll crawl out of bed,

i can't stand,

your shadow is too heavy to lift.

maybe we'll go for a ride.

you said you'd take me nowhere,

i said that suits me just fine.

i know you've always been near,

whispering secrets i know i'm not supposed to hear.

hold your heart with two hands,

give it to me only to disappear.

look how low i've sunk.

don't ask me to rise,

i'll only lose you when i'm high.

all alone in the dark,

love survives only when we are apart.

your voice still sounds in my ears,

soft explosions that blossom with the beat of my heart .

look how low i've sunk.

don't ask me to rise,

i'll only lose you when i'm high."

adam green, the troubador

"things won’t be strange any day now,
they change every day.
hey things won’t be bad all the time now,
stay bad all the time."

live at the troubador, adam green was charming and witty, energetic and silly, and just a damn good time. his music, touching on everything from rockabilly, blues, folk (or anti-folk, as i've heard him refer to it), glam, to indie rock, is infectious, and addictive; i found it hard to stay still in my place by the bar, ever wanting to spin around in circles, or rush to the front of the pit, closer to the stage.

adam seems to be one of those artists who are in-tune with their audience, exchanging connection and energy, and making on the fly set-list changes to fit the mood of the room. it helps when an artist does this in a small venue, and the troubador was the perfect setting for it. the audience, as wide-ranged as the songs, played along with all of it - dancing, shouting out requests, laughing, and interracting with each other. as i said before, infectious and addictive.

also, adam is just a sweetheart. genuine, humble, rambly, and nervous when we spoke with him. he is one of those people you'd just like to buy a drink for and tease a conversation out of, one that you know will wander all over the place, and back again, and have you both laughing and thinking, a lot.

he's a damn good time, truly.

adam green, the troubador, west hollywood, may 21, 2008

like a coin operated lullabye

five steps to disaster

five more steps to a dizzy debauchery

and he was you

yes, darling, and you were me

tricks of the trade

striped violin playing lines

dance around your legs, your hands

without you i'm nothing but sand

reeling and forgetting names, numbers

the drizzle drop trickle

bloodletting

her name is rio and she dances

days go by without tearing the pages

down, dear dark one, down farther still

you leave lipstick marks on my ankles

criss crossed tic tac toe stains

on your elbows, eyelids

the shadow of my dreamscape

post coital recall

asleep in someone else's story

pour me another, my monkey twin

pose your best pout for me

then twirl, spin, twirl again

without the onset of a recovery

we will be the sun

dewella

i bet you taste like strawberty lip gloss
sweet and sticky, humidity rising beneath your
sun-kissed skin

blushed bright and shining, with a speck of winter

grey hiding in the back of your throat,

the back of my mind

jane, the peculiar soul twin of a girl with a hidden

map behind her eyes

two left feet, timid, tongue-tied

you'd guess i talk in circles to keep in time, to keep

in line

and i'd sit back and let you capture these thoughts if

i knew how to streamline them, reign them in

tie them up in a chocolate sundae surprise

wax lyrical about the bend of your toes

the peach coloured shadows that travel and outline the

room beyond

or perhaps it would be about something larger

our own little state of the union

etched into our skin, under a blue frayed sheet

the window propped open by an overdue library book

pages earmarked, torn, wet from the bath

you know i'm even clumsy with other people's words,

don't you?

yeah, and i guess you still know how i feel,

all my coffee covered wisdom tooth nonsense,

a parade of distractions, elephants and daisy chain

poems written on the back of my cigarette pack,

thrown away before i could give it to you,

a kiss on your shoulder,

meant to fall down

deeper still

and these seconds are remarkable,

whispers and

breaths,

green and yellow, blue,

two palm trees and a neon sign,

a different utterance,

a new life, line, listless wonder and awe

you can see it if you squint,

stand on one foot, hold

your breath

there is a window in the back,

two pillows and a

stereo

you can read the pages then,

and lie back

i just want to see if you can read my lips, this time

and feel them land

to be with you again

superstar ~ sonic youth

"long ago,
and oh so far away,
i fell in love with you,
before the second show.

your guitar,
it sounds so sweet and clear,
but you're not really there,
it's just the radio."

the original of this song, by the carpenters, lives in my own childhood history alongside roberta flack's killing me softly. something about the pair of them, and a pre-adolescent girl's fancy for musicians and far off places (her wandering gypsy nature captured in a song, and soulful eyes). suppose i had a grasp on the sadness of love, the loneliness when much of your heart is tied up in songs, and yet there is something lasting - far beyond promises, lies, trysts in the backseats of cars, first kisses, make ups and break ups. the songs still play, they hold on longer, they do not forget the initial blushes and dreams. they do not warm you in the cold hours of the middle of the night, but there is something they bring, something to count on, something to trust.

the same old fears

"so, so you think you can tell,
heaven from hell?
blue skies from pain?
can you tell a green field,
from a cold steel rail?
a smile from a veil?
do you think you can tell?

and, did they get you to trade
your heroes for ghosts?
hot ashes for trees?
hot air for a cool breeze?
cold comfort for change?
and did you exchange a walk on part in the war
for a lead role in a cage?

how i wish,
how i wish you were here.
we're just two lost souls,
swimming in a fish bowl,
year after year.
running over the same ground,
what have we found?
the same old fears.

wish you were here."

things get better everyday you stay alive (for k & p)

i love you both.

"pick up the phone i know you're there
it's almost closing time
& we can toss down one more shot
before last call

are you ok?
i swear to god
i gotta get out of this house
i miss the days when i'd just
not come home at all..

so, don't you cry, it'll give you lines
around your eyes
you gotta try not to live so much of
life alone.
& if i see you getting crazy
by the bottom of the bottle
take me home, take me home,
i'll take
you home

remember when we used to stumble
down the boulevard
from bar to bar until we couldn't stagger straight
it seemed like we would live forever,
life was not this hard
no we felt nothing much at all
but it felt great

so, don't you cry it'll give you lines
around your eyes
you gotta try not to live so much of
life alone
& if i see you getting crazy by the bottom of the bottle,
take you home, i'll take you home,
i'll take you home.

things get better everyday you stay alive
then i'm amazed
every day
that the sun decides to rise
every minute, every hour, is another
chance to change
life is beautiful & terrible & strange.

so don't you cry, it'll give you lines around
your eyes
you gotta try not to live so much of life alone
& if i see you getting crazy by the bottom
of the bottle,
take you home, i'll take you home, i'll take you home.

now don't you cry,
it'll give you lines around your eyes
you gotta try not to live so much of life alone
& if you see me getting crazy by the bottom of the bottle,
take me home, take me home, take me home."

until the next time i get to see you again

"their way,
forces your hand.
there was no way to tell you,
i just hoped you'd understand.
i was waiting for you,
alone with that boy.
he needed a sympathy,
he just didn't want to have to say why.

this way i'll always be for you,
and to see you now and help me on.
you know they like to knock me down,
but i don't stay down for very long.

i couldn't win,
but i could lose.
and so the time had come,
and i knew i'd have to choose.
but that kiss,
i take to the end,
until the next time i get to see you again.

this way i'll always be for you,
and to know you now will see me through.
away you know i knew you there,
and to see you now and help me on.
you know they like to knock me down,
but i don't stay down for very long.
they try to sing their wayward song,
but oh what a way i found.

this way i'll always be for you,
and to know you now will see me through.
away you know i knew you there,
i don't stay down for very long.
you know they like to knock me down,
but i don't stay down for very long.
they tried to say their wayward song,
but oh what a way i found."

wonderland

"'would you tell me, please, which way i ought to go from here?';

'that depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the cat.

'i don't much care where -' said alice.

'then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the cat.

'-so long as i get somewhere,' alice added as an explanation."

alice's adventures in wonderland ~ lewis carroll

and the cover of the nme

"but for the cum in your hair,
the cocaine on your teeth,
you'd be just like the girls,
that i kissed on the heath.
your mother left and you're all alone,
and the world is at your feet,
you smell like ash, mildew and hash,
can barely even speak.

and it's so sad that you're so sad,
and you're so bad for me.
i followed your perfume as you ran down the street.
i caught you and held you and pushed back your fringe,
and swore undying loyalty.
we'll make a new art for the people,
a new art for the people,
a new art for the people,

you and me.

i followed you home,
knocked at your door,
offered myself in the kitchen,
then passed out on the floor.
and when you shout, i get terrified,
and then i love you more.
you sound middle class,
but I'll let it pass,
i don't understand you at all.

and it's so sad that you're so sad,
and you're so bad for me.
i swallowed my pride with a pill and decided to give you back your key.
you caught me and held me,
and i took your hand and swore undying loyalty.
we'll make a new art for the people,
a new art for the people,
a new art for the people,

you and me.

under the covers forever,
everything well within reach.
a small price to pay for our freedom,
and for our celebrity.
such ornaments and gorgeous things,
like string lights at the beach.
intensive care and conditioned air,
and our faces on tv.

and it's so sad but they're so glad,
that you're so bad for me.
the dark days ahead and the blood on the bed,
and the cover of the nme.
they gave us a cheque and took us by our necks,
and swore undying loyalty.
we'll make a new art for the people,
a new art for the people,
a new art for the people,
you and me."

every so often i stumble upon a song that i just cannot stop listening to, even if it cuts deep beneath my surfaces. things you understand in ways you may not want to understand, and hurts that you try to run from, and forget. and yet you feel it, in-between the notes, or in the trade off of voices, the lyrical refrains. so, what do i do? i listen again, as if picking at a sore that never seems to heal. one part the girl i once was, one part the things i see now. i'm not so sure i want to get this song in the ways that i get this song.

and i hit replay, again, and take it for what it is. a new art for the people, yeah? because the people just want blood and magazine covers, and love that is nothing but bad for each other. misery loves company, and fame, doesn't it? and yet i want to be a writer who finds art in happiness, in hope, and in love that heals. it is just the way i choose to see the world.

where in london to find you

"why should he come back through the park?
you thought that you saw him but no you did not.
it's not him who'd come across,
the sea to surprise you,
not him who would know,
where in london to find you.

with sadness so real that it populates,
the city and leaves you homeless again.
steam from the cup and snow on the path,
the seasons have changed from present to past.

the past,
the past,
turns whole to half,
the past.

why should he come back through the park?
you thought that you saw him but no you did not.
who can be sure of anything through,
the distance that keeps you,
from knowing the truth.

why would you think your boy could become,
the man who could make you sure he was the one?

the one,
my one,
my one."

wishes

“sometimes i wish i were a little kid again, skinned knees are easier to fix than broken hearts."

from http://onherway.tumblr.com/

and the voice that made me cry

"you were mother nature's son,
someone to whom i could relate,
your needle and your damage done,
remains a sordid twist of fate.

now i'm trying to wake you up,
to pull you from the liquid sky,
cos if i don't we'll both end up,
with just your song to say goodbye."

i am a fire sign

hippy's son ~ dirty pretty thing

"i am a hippy's son,
i'm in to porn and guns,
i'm virile, fertile,
i scream when i come.
related to you all,
by six degrees.

i am a fire sign,
i've never swum with the tide,
spreading honey on thorns,
and truths that rhyme.
my stories are all tall.

but it's so obvious,
it's bloody outrageous,
they try and they try,
but they'll just never save us.

hush hush my love,
come fall into these arms,
hush hush my love,
come fall into these arms.
hush hush my love."

from the second dirty pretty things album, romance at short notice, to be released on june 30. i've heard a few songs recorded live from recent shows, and saw the lyrics to many of them. to be honest, i was not terribly impressed with this song until i heard the recently released single (given away free here). before i knew it i'd listened to it 10 times in a row, and i've had to admit i quite like it.

i know this album has been a struggle from the start, but i wish them all the best, and that this will be a huge success.

i don't know what to believe in

never is a promise ~ fiona apple

"you'll never see the courage i know,
it's colors richness won't appear within your view.
i'll never glow - the way that you glow,
your presence dominates the judgements made on you.

but, as the scenery grows, i see in different lights,
the shades and shadows undulate in my perception.
my feelings swell and stretch; i see from greater heights,
i understand what i am still too proud to mention - to you.

you'll say you understand, but you don't understand,
you'll say you'd never give up seeing eye to eye,
but never is a promise, and you can't afford to lie.

you'll never touch - these things that i hold,
the skin of my emotions lies beneath my own.
you'll never feel the heat of this soul,
my fever burns me deeper than i've ever shown - to you.

you'll say, don't fear your dreams, it's easier than it seems.
you'll say you'd never let me fall from hopes so high.
but, never is a promise, and you can't afford to lie.

you'll never live the life that i live,
i'll never live the life that wakes me in the night.
you'll never hear the message i give,
you'll say it looks as though i might give up this fight.

but, as the scenery grows, i see in different lights,
the shades and shadows undulate in my perception.
my feelings swell and stretch, i see from greater heights,
i realize what i am now too smart to mention - to you.

you'll say you understand, you'll never understand,
i'll say i'll never wake up knowing how or why.
i don't know what to believe in, you don't know who i am,
you'll say i need appeasing when i start to cry.

but, never is a promise,
and i'll never need a lie."

wring my heart & break it, as i'd rather be alive

“to love at all is to be vulnerable. love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. if you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change. it will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

c.s. lewis

but gravity always wins

"and if i could be who you wanted,
if i could be who you wanted,
all the time, all the time."

i was perusing this space, full of that sad stain of nostalgia that feels weighted and rough. one of those moments where i think i'll either start at the beginning and see what the fuck i was on about, or just stop all this writing. i guess the words are too strong, and the music, well i'm not ever able to let the music go. and it dawns on me, terms like synchronicity and fate, karma if you like, if you open your eyes up and listen to your insides, everywhere you truly look will have a gift to give.

i cannot give up the writing, nor the music, never, ever, ever. i may be lousy at love, but this, i think i just might be good at this.

turn back to the start of this space, and this is what i found (guess i needed to remember):

http://dreamsgavemeaway.blogspot.com/2007/08/and-if-you-shake-her-heart-enough-she.html

there are ways we decide to express ourselves; be it in the way we write, talk, think, dream, invest our time, or as i tend to do more often than not, through the music we listen to. i may wake up with invisible tape over my lips, rendering me silent and wordless, but what spins in my car stereo or streams through my headphones, is where most of my truths lie. sometimes i get lost in the twists and turns of a simple lyrical refrain, other times the simple pleas of a singer wailing into the mic reduce me to a pool of tears, or bring on such strength and renewal that i swear i could fly.

inside the songs i often hide confessions, longing and unnamed pain. it seems easier to tuck them away in a melody, and to throw them out into the ether of existence and airwaves - the music keeps all my secret wishes safe and sound. sometimes i tie ribbons around them, leave soft kisses on the curve of each note, slide them into a brown-paper package, and send them off to the hands and ears of someone else. they are my gifts of heart and mind, they are my love, my anger, my logic, and my dreams. music is connection to me, and if the receiver is too far away to touch, the songs are my offered hand to hold, my fingers entwined with theirs, my arms wrapped around them in a long embrace.

at times, the songs are enough to fill the ache and pull of distance and regret. other nights, though, they are the strung-out reminders of a damaged heart awash in loneliness. the liner notes are etched in a scrawl too convoluted to see clearly, but if i could make out the words, they would sound something like i miss you, i wish you woulda put yourself in my suitcase. and your un-written replies, well i imagine them alight in the burned spirals on that cd you sent; the one i still carry around with me everywhere.

and i've lost myself completely

pacific coast highway (demo) ~ courtney love

"i knew a boy who came from the sea,
he was the only boy who ever,
knew the truth about me.

i'm overwhelmed and undersexed,
baby, what did you expect?
i'm overwrought and so disgraced,
i'm too ashamed to show my face.

and they're coming to take me away now,
what i want i will never have;
i'm on the pacific coast highway,
with your gun in my hand.

i knew a boy who left me so ravaged,
do you even know the extent,
of the damage?

my dirty little secret died,
in between the sheets,
and the promises that killed me,
from your eyes.

i'm bloody and totally bound,
i don't know what to do with my hands now;
i surrender, i give in,
i'll kick down your door if you don't let me in.

and i've lost myself completely,
i look to you, my true desire,
i'm on the pacific coast highway,
god how did you fall so far?

your whole world is in my hands,
your whole wide world is in my hands."

not the best video, as i'm not quite fond of a slide show of images, especially when so many are watermarked. but, this is the only full version of this song that i can find at the moment. this is a demo from courtney's upcoming album 'nobody's daughter', and i have fallen for it pretty hard. lyrics that rattle at the core of my insides, as i sit up far too late into the night still sick, and longing for a conversation with the sea.

if you don't mind

"happy endings, no they never bored me,
happy endings, they still don't bore me."

i could lose my soul right here

the vagabond ~ air (featuring beck)

& the video

through blue summer nights i will pass along paths,

pricked by wheat, trampling short grass:

dreaming, i will feel coolness underfoot,

will let breezes bathe my bare head.

not a word, not a thought:

boundless love will surge through my soul,

and i will wander far away, a vagabond [...]

~ arthur rimbaud

you're my playground love

some days when my head is spinning with worries, and i forget how it feels to breathe, i look to the music and other's eyes to bring me back to a state of calm. i am a sucker for imagery matched up with song, anyone who reads this space is most likely well aware of this. there is something so interconnected in my mind, and heart, that weaves together a photograph or a painting with the lyrical refrains and melodies.

i miss the barefoot simplicity of my younger years.

but some afternoons i grab the babies and we run off to play in the park. the slides are my favorite, and i still climb up into them and let my body slip. i struggle with control issues that dictate many of my life choices, but in that moment of sliding i allow myself to free fall. i remember the appeal of parks and playgrounds, we all had some magnet pull to them, no matter how we were dressed, or where we had been.

how many times did we climb to the top in dresses, not caring at all?

playground love ~ air (from the film the virgin suicides)
& the video

my mother would braid daisies in my hair, but only that one summer when she had allowed me to grow my hair long. he used to weave together a crown of daisies for me, i remember. i always figured i'd wear them in place of a veil when i married, though i've married twice with no flowers anywhere. suppose it isn't the same, they were never weddings, not the way a girl dreams them to be. perhaps it was all just meant to stay that way, memories and the wishes of young love.

i have not given up on dreaming, though.

polaroids remind me of my childhood, of aunt annette and her shoebox collection. she kept it under her bed, pushed to the back and flush with the wall. some were blurry, others were taken at uncomfortable angles. but there were a few that told stories in their particular play at shadows and light. i never found out who took them, whether it was her, or if these were stolen/found images. i know my family history is fraught with petty thievery.

i like to believe she took them, and hid the camera somewhere i never discovered. her secret mystery.

i kiss you on the brain in the shadow of the train

"the pebbles forgive me, the trees forgive me,
so why can't, you forgive me?
i don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else,
but you."

the only constant is change

"change moves in spirals, not circles. for example, the sun goes up and then it goes down. but everytime that happens, what do you get? you get a new day. you get a new one. when you breathe, you inhale and you exhale, but every single time that you do that you're a little bit different then the one before. we're always changing. and its important to know that there are some changes you can't control and that there are others you can."

dan ~ half nelson

tied to a night they never met

lover's spit ~ broken social scene (featuring feist)

"all these people drinking lover's spit,
swallowing words while giving head;
they listen to teeth learn how to quit,
to a night they never met.

you know it's time,
that we grow old and do some shit;
i like it all that way."

early mornings with music stuck in my head, and the smell of coffee brewing in the next room. these are stolen moments when words criss-cross and light up my fingertips, while dreams still in their feigned disguises remind me of my hopes and fears. i discovered this song in a found mix, it was hidden amongst the familiar and unknown, the way most beauty is. it reminded me of an afternoon, a saturday, working at tower in chicago. there was this girl who was visiting from new york, and we had one of those conversations usually shared with those people you trust your soul with. but sometimes strangers have that ability to peel back the surfaces, don't they? she laughed and half-whispered a moment shared with a boyfriend she'd recently lost, and i listened. she asked about this band, and i told her i'd only heard them once, in a bookstore in portland, and how the boy behind the counter with the pale blue eyes had told me the name. she bought everything i recommended, laughing at how i now held a secret of hers, so she might as well take back with her the things i sang along to. i have no idea what her name was, but i wrote her into something last night. and this song played, repeated, and played again.

but now i'm gold

silver lining ~ rilo kiley

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

i know more than i knew before

i feel it all ~ feist

"oh i'll be the one who'll break my heart,
i'll be the one to hold the gun.

i love you more.
i love you more.

i don't know what i knew before,
but now i know i wanna win the war."

nabokov's son pushes to release his last work despite his father's dying wish for it to be destroyed; an unfinished novel called 'the original of laura'. it sparks a conversation of how my name has been ever associated with death/dying/loss, because even at the start i was named after a man who falls in love with a dead woman, or who he thinks is dead, laura (1944 film). years later i'll fall for a series all based around the death of a girl found "dead and wrapped in plastic", one laura palmer. i could go on, really i could, but i don't think i want to.

though it is funny to have a new friend tell you she wrote a story with a girl named laura in it, a prostitute, who dies at the end.

today though, in my early attempts to start feeling better, i'd rather concentrate on "winning the war". i don't need my name immortalized, i don't need anymore songs or stories, i just want to be the one falling, the one breaking my own heart, the one holding the gun, as long as i'm being truly alive.

the way i love you

to love somebody ~ ray lamontagne and damien rice (live)

"in my brain,

i see your face again,

i know my frame of mind,

you aint got to be so blind.

and i'm blind, so very blind;

i'm a man, cant you see,

what i am.

i live and breathe for you.

but what good does it do,

if i aint got you,

if i ain't got you?"

but it all keeps coming back in the morning

on almost any sunday morning ~ counting crows

& the video

"take a message to your head,

just stay beside her in the bed.

you were so stupid,

to believe in things you couldn't see,

then make them all you want.

if you haven't got the reasons,

just make up any reasons,

then pick them 'til they're torn.

take it all away,

you took your coat today,

but they all go back in the morning.

make a time to find your way,

i got a little further today;

wash your eyes clear of anything,

make them empty circles,

dress yourself in black or gray.

i'm hungry like a wild waif or only child.

this lithium is heroin to me,

it makes it all withdraw,

all the anger and loss,

but it all keeps coming back in the morning.

you keep yourself too clean,

you dig yourself a dream,

that we won't be coming home alone.

you won't be coming home alone.

not this time,

not this time,

not this time."