Tag Archives: crazy

looking up

14 Jan

Everything is just FINE

no, seriously. Today has been pretty awesome thus far, I am kind of looking forward to tomorrow. Art! Yearbook! More art!
And now that I suddenly have ideas, things are forty times easier.
I just taught my dad how to sync things to his new iPod! I feel accomplished. Have you ever felt accomplished? Don’t answer that, of course you have.

And the year rolls on.

I’ve been listening to a volatile combination of Vampire Weekend, White Denim, and Spoon, I am not too sure how long I will survive being bombarded by all this coarse joy before I explode into confetti.
HEY THERE, CEILING!
Oh oh oh I did some midnight drabbles last night, let me show you them.
they are probably not very good as I was kind of awake while writing them, but we’ll see.
============
One day, maybe, the flashes behind my eyelids will cease, turning into a completely different person through music. You are my glorious one, you follow me and make me realize my flaws and changes and your delight of your delight together inside hearts from scratch homegrown.
You don’t understand your own mind, let alone others’ minds; together, away from home, life continues. Not your fault, not your reasons for love or lack thereof. I’d mind if you didn’t move how I’d thought, but I’ve king things are okay.
Your mind, though, is a strange ferocious animal, your breath unnatural. You always outthink when you ring your doorbell, together his love
I’ve never quite done this before, you know what I gtab light, not your terror or the glory on the way we work, the way neath the truth, attack the spaces in between morals and say it’s a service for your community, your love and mine may love the life surrounding. Gobhead. Take another drag on your cigar. It’ll kill you shouldn’t beast oh I cannot write tonight, I’m thinking too much.
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Going to do some more tonight. Luckily for this one it was almost totally legible, besides some scribbles scrawled haphazardly along the bottom of a page and a crossed-out I.
I am occasionally frightened by the stuff I write: I ask myself how something like that, extolling love and beauty and all that shit, could possibly come out of this little head of mine.
SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE JUST STARTED, THIS IS THE MOST ENERGETIC SONG EVERRRRRRRR
For reference, it occasionally makes me break out in random dancing when I’m home alone or sequestered in my room. Sweet? Sweet.

I will write more tommorrow.

in case of emergency, break glass

17 Nov

and the glass is in shards around my ankles right now. God, I’m confused and heartachey and full to the brim with this feeling- this feeling that will not go away, no matter how many times I listen to Steam Engine or lie in bed staring blankly at the ceiling, thinking of things better left buried deep in my subconcious. I am in the center of a ring of confusion- on one side are my friends, one of which may or may not be going through a mental breakdown and has not told me, the other of which may be slowly falling away from sanity and beginning to embrace stress as an acceptable way of life.
Then there’s the three people responsible for this heartache- one that I am deathly afraid of him hating me/never speaking to me again/renouncing any inkling of our friendship and possibly ignoring me for the rest of my life. The second one is worrying me as I am starting to write frickin’ poetry about him (not on LiveJournal, thank god) and I know he doesn’t think of me as anything other than another person. (Maybe. ) The
third is just plain being an enigma, telling me one thing then suddenly, inexplicably, turning into a tacit stress magnet. Not that he wasn’t one before, but now it’s scaring me, how seriously he’s taking these standardized tests. I am afraid if he doesn’t get into this program he might be broken beyond recognition, or worse… I don’t even want to think about that possibility. No, I will not let myself even consider it.
But I feel stifled somehow, like I have something so great to write about but no ideas… Maybe it has to do with the music, or maybe it has to do with the people, or maybe I am just slowly going stark raving mad and no one is frank enough to tell me.
Bortglomt. I would like a hug from you, though you probably don’t read this.
Tweed, you are bloody confusing.
Agætis, I hope you survive your ordeal and go back to being your slightly off-the-wall self; the self I like to talk to and spend time with.

so take your money don’t look back…my morning jacket, you are brilliant and I’d like to give you all lumberjack thrash hair hugs.

Ciao, dears.