| she's on fire; |
[27 Nov 2020|12:55am] |
[SPAM. TEXTS. VOICEMAIL.]
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| dont let yourself get weary; |
[28 Dec 2011|10:12pm] |
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cynicism / end.
today i want skating for the first time since i was twelve, and came home with new red mittens that were ice stained and wet. my knees are sore, but my cheeks hurt as an after pain of smiling at a little boy and a little girl who stumbled hand in hand for the entire hour.
anger is often the easiest emotion a human being can feel; it is notably harder to allow yourself acceptance of the beauty in simple, honest places when the world seems frozen.
eyes, stay open.
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| i'm leaving on a jet plane; |
[27 Jul 2011|06:44am] |
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i'm going to put my feet in the pacific ocean on saturday. three weeks in california sunshine? yes, please.
in the meantime, i'm going to sit down and play every track from 'only by the night' on an old piano, and hope i don't wake up the world.
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| writers block. (public entry) |
[26 May 2011|10:45pm] |
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i can't write anymore; there are about three dozen crumpled up sheets of ink stained scribbles littering every flat (and sloped, for that matter) surface of my bedroom right now. if anyone finds my muse, please tell it that home is where the heart is. i'll be waiting with a cup of korean tea and open arms.
the new foo's album is kind of incredible.
working weekends is going to be my ruination.
i thought it through, and my worst brings out the best in you.
see? pointless. numb.
the end.
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| l.a. has nice sand; public entry |
[14 Feb 2011|12:09am] |
i want to live by the ocean.
i can't keep waiting.
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| public entry; are the men in this city out of their minds? |
[31 Jan 2011|12:31am] |
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| back to december; |
[28 Jan 2011|02:15am] |
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| where does the good go? (public thoughts on paper.) |
[06 Jan 2011|06:49pm] |
in my twenty four years on this planet, i've never gone to a dance club.
i've played in every dive bar that would have be in the state of new york. i've watched embarrassing shows at the knitting factory i will never admit to.
never once, however, have i gone out in a short skirt and high heels for fruity drinks that share the names of people. it's starting to make me feel robbed of a young adulthood.
is that wrong?
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| what i am to you; (public entry) |
[01 Jan 2011|09:18pm] |
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last night was interesting.
on a different note: moving begins tomorrow!
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| carolina liar for the win. |
[29 Dec 2010|03:09pm] |
save me
i'm lost
oh lord, i've been waiting for you.
i'll pay any cost
save me from being confused.
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| ain't this just like the present, to be showing up like this - public entry |
[27 Dec 2010|02:22pm] |
Being snowed into your house is only terrible when you run out of any acceptable forms of hot beverages; I drank the last of the coffee an hour ago, which will tell you how desperate the situation has become.
I hate coffee.
It's pretty outside, though.
All I want to do today is write. Play and write until my fingers are aching, but that's not as simple as it sounds. My hand is killing me and I haven't played a note.
Most importantly, I'm smiling today. Shitty heating and no tea can't even wipe the grin away.
(you're a smarter boy than you realize, and i'm so lucky to have you to talk to, a.)
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| snowpocalypse 2010 |
[26 Dec 2010|10:38pm] |
it's snowing. alot.
what are you doing while you're housebound to keep warm/entertained?
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| thought. |
[21 Dec 2010|06:47am] |
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I'm in the mood for candy cane hot chocolate. Just sayin'.
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| confused. tired. sick of a broken furnace. (public entry) |
[19 Dec 2010|09:49pm] |
My mother always told me when I couldn't come to a concrete decision on something, I should try writing up a list of pros and cons.
This morning I woke up and came to a realization. As distressing and concerning as it was, it was a realization nonetheless and no list I've tried to write has made it any less difficult to swallow. It's like a big pill being forced down a dry throat; it hurts, but it can make you better again.
I've been living at home with my father for my entire life - all twenty four years of it. Since the day my mother died, he's relied on me for absolutely everything; his laundry, his meals, and most importantly, his reason for opening his eyes every morning. My dad lost the love of his fucking life, and I'm the only thing he's got left to remind him of her. He's the only reason I sit down to that piano every night after dinner; it's the only time I see him smile. He's the only reason I learned to cook; if he kept eating the shit he made himself, his arteries would have solidified before I was sixteen and I would have been a fucking orphan.
Right now, I'm wondering why this situation makes me so angry.
I've given up any type of a youth doing this; living in an old, decrepit house where the heat doesn't work when it needs to and the taps leak all night, with a father who would likely shoot the first person of the opposite sex he saw walk in through the front door, threatening to take his little girl away. It's taken two days under this roof on my own to realize that I've got nothing here.
No life. No independence. No future.
The hardest part is finally understanding that the one thing standing between me and all of those things is the one person I know would take a thousand bullets for me.
He needs to let her go. I need to let him go.
Does anyone need a roommate?
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| oh, i wish i could change your mind; |
[11 Dec 2010|10:57pm] |
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i am so tired today that my eyes are on fire.
dark; you can't come soon enough for me.
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| as the winter winds litter london with lonely hearts (public entry) |
[08 Dec 2010|10:33pm] |
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so i just went for a walk into town centre. the wind was so cold, every bone in my body feels stiff; heavy as lead.
i'm hiding for the rest of the night under a quilt with 'house of leaves', an i-pod and peppermint tea; maybe i'll write something of substance once i can feel my fingertips again.
and if your strife strikes at your sleep
remember spring swaps snow for leaves
you'll be happy and wholesome again
when the city clears and sun ascends
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[04 Dec 2010|01:09am] |
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i need a drink.
or two.
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