A quest to make sense of it all. Or a sense to make a quest of it all.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Passing thoughts.

After going out with the W-forest girls and having what amounted to a wake, I sat up and texted Michael, who is kind enough to not hold it against me that I was unleashing my stream of conscious dumbassedness on his unsuspecting phone 'round midnight. He's da bomb.

In other news, American Aquarium is at home for the week before setting out on their next tour. They'll be coming around this area in February, and I am stoked. I've been talking with Bill quite a bit and I'm really looking forward to seeing him/them.

Well the railroad sings a sad love song
and the rain outside just sings along
and we all dance for the lonely.
Over that hill, the sun's waitin for me
up in Johnson City, Tennessee
we got a show tomorrow in Nashville.
So I tried to call you on my telephone
but your answering machine told me you aint home
Baby girl, when you gonna realize
that you can't wash away all your pain
with your dirty wine and cheap champagne?
You're just dancin for the lonely.
And goddamn this city
to hell with the cold dark nights
and my God, you look so pretty
under those city lights.

The last show I went to, two drunk girls begged BJ to sing that one for them outside. He complied, and I watched. He stood on the curb and strummed his guitar and I was fascinated. He makes his life an open book through his songs, but I've never really talked to him, and I don't know him at all. He makes a lot of noise but I can't read him, except to know that whoever screwed him over did a bang-up job. And anyone within earshot can pick up on that.

People like the ones I've mentioned in this post are the reason I write, readers. When I can't understand something, I have to wrap words around it and through it until I've given it fictional flesh and can be satisfied with some kind of answer, even if its one that probably isn't accurate. I love never knowing where inspiration is going to come from.


I am tapped out, World. After work, I'm going home, popping a xanax, and taking down my Christmas tree. I'm only answering the phone for mom, Michael, and Brandon. And I am going to watch Hedwig. Again. And I might watch it again tomorrow and I don't need your approval for it.

Last time I saw you, we had just split in two.
You were looking at me.I was looking at you.
You had a way so familiar, but I could not recognize,
Cause you had blood on your face; I had blood in my eyes.
But I could swear by your expression
That the pain down in your soul
Was the same as the one down in mine.
That's the pain, cuts a straight line
Down through the heart;
We called it love. -Hedwig and the Angry Inch, Origin of Love

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