18 October, 2006, 442 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

I can’t actually socialize until probably two or more weeks from now, since we have competitions.  I wish I could drive.  I promise I won’t talk about band directly unless it hasn’t been said yet.

Haha, awkward much?  I just got back from dinner and I got an IM from someone; I’m afraid they thought I was ignoring them, but I forgot to put up an away message because I wasn’t talking to anyone.  No commitments, you know?  Open-ended.  I’m officially commitophobic, I think, except to my friends and to this blog.  That’s cool of me.  And I’m committed to picnics, which excite me immensely.  We should have one, though.  I’ve received one picnic draft, and it was detailed and better than yours will be, when you make one.

At the moment, I’m listening to “The Calendar Hung Itself,” and it makes me feel like being violently in love.  One of those relationships that’s so intense and fast and passionate that it’s actually unhealthy.  A sapless relationship that’s very vulgar.  You both have to wear the pants.  I feel like being in one of those right now.  I think I’m going to keep listening, and leave this entry at that.  And give you the lyrics.  Make what you like of them.

Does he kiss your eyelids in the morning
When you start to raise your head?
And does he sing to you incessantly
From the space between your bed and wall?
Does he walk around all day at school
With his feet inside your shoes?
Looking down every few steps
To pretend he walks with you?
Oh, does he know that place below your neck
That’s your favorite to be touched?
And does he cry through broken sentences
Like, “I love you far too much”?
Does he lay awake listening to your breath
Worried that you smoke too many cigarettes?
Is he coughing now on a bathroom floor?
For every speck of tile there’s a thousand more
You won’t ever see but must hold inside yourself eternally

Well, I drug your ghost across the country
And we plotted out my death
In every city, memories would whisper
“Here is where you rest”
I was determined in Chicago
But I dug my teeth into my knees
And I settled for a telephone
Sang into your machine
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine”

And I kissed a girl with a broken jaw
That her father gave to her
She had eyes bright enough to burn me
They reminded me of yours
In a story told she was a little girl
In a red-rouge, sun-bruised field
And there were rows of ripe tomatoes
Where a secret was concealed
And it rose like thunder, clapped under our hands.
And it stretched for centuries to a diary entry’s end
Where I wrote
“You make me happy (Right!)
When skies are gray
You make me happy (Right!)
Oh, when skies are gray and gray and gray”

Well, the clock’s heart it hangs inside its open chest
With its hands stretched towards the calendar hanging itself
But I will not weep for those dying days
For all the ones who’ve left, there’s a few that stayed
And they found me here and pulled me from the grass
Where I was laid


2 Comments so far
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Sometimes, I wish I could write lyrics like that because everytime I write a song, it….isn’t as good as that. hahahaha. Makes me want to hear the song

Comment by laurrasb

yo quiero un picnic tambien. o posiblemente una fiesta del te…o un picnic del fiesta del te. estoy creyendo en espanol porque tu das me la idea de creer en otros lenguas porque tu dijiste que tu creyes en francias, y me gusta este idea. quieres vas al cine para mirar “marie antoinette” conmigo el fin de semana proximo? (lo siento porque este comento no tiene acentos, no se porque usar los acentos en este computadora).
muchisimo amo xxx

Comment by divya

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