For some odd reason, I'm actually excited by all this stuff below. I can't wait to get married. I fucking love this woman, even for all her flaws. I know I'm flawed, yet she still tries to be happy with me.Groom
In your eyes, I have found my home.
In your heart, I have found my love.
In your soul, I have found my mate.
With you, I am whole, full, alive.
You make me laugh. You let me cry.
You are my breath, my every heartbeat.
I am yours.
You are mine.
Of this we are certain.
You are lodged in my heart.
The small key is lost.
You must stay there forever.Bride
You are my inspiration and my soul's fire.
You are the magic of my days.
You help me laugh, you teach me love.
You provide a safe place for me, unlike I've ever known.
You free me to sing my own song.
You are more of an amazement to me, each day I rediscover you.
You are my greatest boon.
I am yours.
You are mine.
Of this we are certain.
You are lodged in my heart.
The small key is lost.
You must stay there forever.
Frau Ava (circa 1160), translated by Willis Barnstone
EXCERPT FROM THE VELVETEEN RABBIT
~ By Margery Williams ~
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but Really loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get all loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
The Blessing Of The Apaches
Now you will feel no rain, For each of you will be shelter to the other.
Now you will feel no cold,
For each of you will be warmth to the other.
Now there is no more loneliness for you,
For each of you will be companion to the other.
Now you are two bodies,
But there is only one life before you.
Go now to your dwelling place,
To enter into the days of your togetherness.
And may your days be good and long upon the earth.
Before we met, you and I were halves unjoined except in the wide rivers of our minds. We were each other's distant shore, the opposite wings of a bird, the other half of a seashell. We did not know the other then, did not know our determination to keep alive the cry of one riverbank to the other. We were apart, Yet connected in our ignorance of each other, like two apples sharing a common tree. Remember?
I knew you existed long before you understood my desire to join my freedom to yours. Our paths collided long enough for our indecision to be swallowed up by the greater need of love. When you came to me, the sun surged towards the earth and moon escaped from darkness to bless the union of two spirits, so alike that the creator had designed them for life's endless circle. Beloved partner, keeper of my heart's odd secrets, clothed in summer blossoms so the icy hand of winter never touches us. I thank your patience. Our joining is like a tree to earth, a cloud to sky and even more. We are the reason the world can laugh on its battlefields and rise from the ashes of its selfishness to hear me say, in this time, this place, this way - I loved you best of all.
Commitment poem of the Pueblo Indian, author unknown
From "The Irrational Season", by Madeleine L'Engle (back to top of page)
"Ultimately there comes a time when a decision must be made. Ultimately two people who love each other must ask themselves how much they hope for as their love grows and deepens, and how much risk they are willing to take. It is indeed a fearful gamble. Because it is the nature of love to create, a marriage itself is something which has to be created. To marry is the biggest risk in human relations that a person can take. If we commit ourselves to one person for life this is not, as many people think, a rejection of freedom; rather it demands the courage to move into all the risks of freedom, and the risk of love which is permanent; into that love which is not possession, but participation. It takes a lifetime to learn another person. When love is not possession, but participation, then it is part of that co-creation which is our human calling."
Stepping out from behind the garbage can, Brian’s brother stumbled out of the alley and continued down the street. Hair disheveled, his tie was undone most of the way and his shirt half-untucked under a suit jacket that picked up more dirt and dust every time his shoulder fell into a wall for support. Another half a block down and he finds another bar. Coming to this area his whole childhood, he never noticed how many bars there were. Of course, normally it was to browse thrift shops after church on a Sunday morning. His mom had always called it “antique shopping” and he never quite shook the feeling of embarrassment from grade school when one of the other kids saw him wearing a shirt that his parents had given to Goodwill. He was made fun of the rest of the year and once he finally understood what it meant, he vowed to never be a thrift shop kid again.
He enters the bar and has no trouble finding a stool, although he does have a little difficulty balancing on it. The booze from earlier was wearing off and too many memories were flooding his brain, so he impatiently tapped his fingernails on the counter until the bartender took notice. After taking a shot and chugging a Coors Light, his head cleared enough to focus on the ambience. Country music. He hated country music.
Looking around the place, he saw nothing but trucker hats and dirty work shirts with embroidered name badges. Peanut shells littered the floor. Only one credit could be given to country music in his mind, and it was a realization he had just achieved at that moment—only these songs mention loss and redemption as it related to a world outside of romantic relationships. Brotherly love and brotherly pain. As his eyes swept the bar again, he noticed that most of the tables and stools were occupied by men, with only a few women interspersed sporadically. He noted that any place else, he’d think he’d wandered into a gay nightclub, but here he felt he could understand the camaraderie. The music was still terrible though and he figured that it would be better to honor his brother with a love ballad than with this. So, he set it in his mind to find another place but before leaving, took another shot to help carry him there.
Searching for another place to loiter, he quickly discovered that he was lost. He was far too drunk to care about that, but more thoughts of his brother began to come back. The closed businesses and locked doors that lined these streets at night mocked his inability to find sanctuary and eventually forced him to a dead end.
At the funeral a few hours back, there had been a number of armed forces men there in fall uniform. He wasn’t sure if they had even met Brian and he chose not to talk to them at all out of resentment. They had no right to be there, they were the reason that he was dead. He didn’t live as a soldier; he lived as a brother, a son, an artist, a student…
Brian’s tour of duty consisted mostly of driving as part of supply caravans. That’s all he had to do, drive. He never fired a weapon over there. Most of the time, he was in safe zones and often had access to internet terminals, so he continued to email his family. His brother had picked up this duty, as their mom had become a nervous wreck in recent months. She held herself together pretty well during the day, but in the evening and at night; she couldn’t stop worrying about her son and the fear that one day the emails would stop coming. This led to her not even checking her account anymore. She’d rather bury her own head in the sand than hold on to the image of her child being buried there instead.
His brother lived too far from home to give Brian any insight into how life was going for their family, but he did fill Brian’s inbox with jokes and stories of hanging out with friends. He figured it would brighten his day more than telling him that their mom was taking twice the recommended dosage of Xanax every night just to fall asleep. One day, the emails did stop coming back, but he hid this from their mother, figuring Brian had just been reassigned and couldn’t get to a computer.
It took two weeks for the letter to reach Brian’s mother. Took almost that long just to identify the dead and injured bodies. They had driven over an IED and in the ensuing fire fight, rocket propelled grenades and small arms fire riddled their entire convoy. There’s no telling at what point Brian was killed, but his brother hoped it was as sudden as possible. When all was finally sorted out, a form letter was sent to inform their mother of her loss. So you see, he didn’t even die like a soldier. And he sure as hell shouldn’t be buried like one.
Can’t people see that their actions and their mistakes are not theirs to carry alone? The repercussions of an unfortunate decision are felt far and wide. Surely, Jimmy Carter wouldn’t show up at the funeral and sooner than George W. himself would. Why should Bush care? It’s not like Brian died a war hero, after all. In Bush’s mind, this war ended itself months before Brian fell. The president must think this is some truly unique circumstance; more peacetime deaths than have ever been recorded by a single military in history. At least one person gets a legacy out of this; Brian, most certainly, will not.
Part 3 coming someday, if I ever write it.
“Quit punishing me with your mistakes!” he screamed into the darkness, as though volume now influenced the philosophical progression of the universe and its inhabitants. This thought crosses us all at some point or another in our lives. Why do we have to bear the burden that others brought upon themselves?
Jimmy Carter decided to arm the Afghan rebels in their fight against the invading Russians. Ronald Reagan doubled that help. George Bush Sr. pulled out of the commitment so he could focus on Iraq. Bill Clinton decided not to take out Osama Bin Laden when we had the chance. George W. Bush saw fit to re-enter both arenas and give them a common bond against us.
Thanks to each individual decision and their sum total, Brian is now dead. His older brother walks the downtown streets of their hometown, thinking back over their whole lives. Drunk, he stumbles down an alley between a convenience store and the Kiwanis Club building. He stops behind a garbage can to conceal his business and proceeds to let out the piss he’s been holding in for two hours. As the pressure of one problem releases, another’s surges back into his mind.
On the top of the trash pile there’s a half-eaten gummy scorpion. The harbinger of long lost memories. It’s been fifteen years, at least, since he’s seen one of those. He, Brian and their dad used to come in to this convenience store all the time. Brian would beg for candy, especially the gummy creatures, and his brother would try to dissuade or distract Brian’s attention. He knew how poor their parents were, how hard their dad worked and how his dad would spend his last dollar buying candy for his son. So, he would try to shuffle his little brother away from the candy aisle to save their father the risk of spending his last cash. Often he failed in this, and Brian would sit triumphantly in the passenger seat of their dad’s work van (their sole form of transportation at the time), eating the legs off of a gummy scorpion one by one.
Brian didn’t join the military out of any sort of patriotic sensibility following 9/11 or anything. He joined a few months before, fresh out of high school, because he wanted to go to college and become a professional photographer. His parents, though, were still too poor to support that and any scholarships he qualified for with his meager test scores wouldn’t cover much.
The army, he’d heard, was an easy way to earn money for college and during this time, he’d no longer be a financial strain on his parents. It was relatively risk-free too, because everyone knew that in this day and age 90% of any war would be fought by the air force or Special Forces teams instead of by large numbers of ground troops. Anyway, we didn’t have any enemies to speak of, or so we thought.
He had been something of a rebel throughout school, not in the traditional leather jacket, James Dean, Fonzie sort of way, but rather in the sense that he cared nothing for authoritarian utilities like math and science. He wanted to focus on the arts. Express himself. That’s all.
Basic training was the worst part of it all for him, he’d said. Barely had time to do anything but eat, sleep, shit and work. He wasn’t in bad shape, but the things they made him do definitely wore him out. Once that was over with, being stationed on a base was great. If anything, he had too much leisure time. There’s no shortage of ways to get into trouble on a military base and, more often than not, Brian found himself on PK duty, acting as a designated driver for the officers or under house arrest in his bunk.
After 9/11, he was shocked and slightly drawn in by the machismo exuded by the other guys on base. Whereas most of the country was stunned and in tears, these guys were angry and bloodthirsty. They knew that, if deployed, they could not only stand up against those that committed these acts, but exact revenge in person. It was an opportunity they were gunning for, no pun intended.
They were disappointed when they weren’t called into Afghanistan. It only took a few short weeks for their brothers-in-arms to cool that place and although all the guys were proud of their country’s ability to step up and efficiently kick ass, they were also disheartened that they couldn’t join in the fray. Life around the base was pretty dormant for a while and Brian, feeling as though he’d literally dodged a bullet, began to use the available computers and phones to contact his family as much as possible.
His mother loved the daily emails at first. She hated the idea of her son joining the military in the first place, and was entirely too relieved when Brian managed to miss out on the Afghanistan conflict. In her younger years, she was a hippie who protested the Vietnam War and saw all too many of her friends die in that place. She sat up every night for hours and hours writing every detail about life at home, while the T.V. drowned out the insistent clicking of her keyboard. She wanted both herself and him to feel like he was still with the family.
One night, as she sat typing by the glow of the television, she couldn’t help but notice the 11 o’clock news and its top story. George W. Bush was on the screen laying out an ultimatum for Iraq: three weeks to allow weapons inspectors total access to the country, or military action will be taken. She hadn’t really watched the news much leading up to this, always being distracted with writing Brian’s emails. She put her concern aside for the time being and presumed that nothing would come of it. “Politicians,” she thought, “keep their threats as empty as their promises.”
Stay Tuned For Part 2, Coming Whenever I Damn Well Feel Like Putting It Up.
George Bush is the biggest lying, cheating, bullshit-flinging, spying, conniving, oil-thriving, greedy, inarticulate, slimy bastard of a President since... since... well, since Bill Clinton. He's just as bad as his father! And-and Ronald Reagan, too. Come to think of it, he very well may have been born out of an incident long suspected of having occurred, wherein Ronald Reagan had to fuck Barbara and George Bush Sr. for Bill Clinton's amusement. This theory is quite popular in many conspiracy circles and the question of paternity hasn't yet been answered satisfactorily.
Honesty could go a long way towards eradicating this suspicion. The only reason anyone could even think of our president as a love child from an orgy involving three other presidents is merely because all politicians lie so similarly. We've seen how each of them behaves under stress, during scandals and when asked questions they find "difficult" to answer in a straight-forward fashion. The mannerisms, sweating, blinking, vacant stares, stuttering, repetitious phrasing and nonchalant ignorance-pleading is indicative of a liar doing his very best to not trip over his own tongue as he puts his foot into mouth. On an interesting side note, this tendency was the inspiration for the Presidential Physical Fitness program, as it requires a tremendous amount of strength, balance, coordination and flexibility to put your foot in your mouth while your head is in your ass. And have you ever wondered why news crews always have stock footage on-hand of any current president jogging in the morning? This is all part of their training, as sometimes it's difficult to lie your way out of a scandal and they must be prepared to run like hell from any potential indictments. Too bad their cabinet members never seem to have gym memberships.
Let's get back to the heart of the matter. For a moment, we'll focus on Iraq. Our president gave us the most base, sugar-coated justification for out invasion. There were evil people in the world, we were told. They want to harm our children, he said. They have yellow cake, he promised. THAT'S when our interest grew. We get to beat up the bad guys, save our children from imminent danger, and we get cake?! Fucking awesome, we thought.
The truth of this particular matter is that Iraq was being run by a dictator with genocidal tendencies towards specific ethnic groups in the region. His prior murderous rampages were riddled with more than enough atrocities to merit any humane society on earth putting him down for good. The fact that we didn't take him out of power when we had our chance was due not to the severity of his egregious actions, but rather to our dependence on oil from the region, and any sign of aggression, no matter how justified, could have potentially led to strained relations and higher oil prices for the West. We were in a pretty severe recession at the time and our president didn't want to be blamed for taking any more money from his taxpayers. An example of bullshit politicking? You bet.
So, given Saddam Hussein's history, it's of little surprise that our politicians became worried when he began refusing entry to his country from U.N. Weapons Inspectors. The considerable damage that was done to us on 9/11 was at risk to happen again and once more a president didn't want to be blamed for making a bad situation worse. See? The truth wasn't so bad. Was the war in Iraq justified, then? HELL NO! It was justifiable, but the lies we were told make it unacceptable.
He wanted to conceal that his decision wasn't set in a concrete foundation. He feared that voters would lose faith in him and his party if we realized that they didn't always make the best decisions. Under repeated questioning, the lie was told again and again until it was more pervasive that the initial fear ever was. What happens if he gets caught in the lie? Well, he doesn't fear that because it's a "what if" situation that occurs down the line. You can always buy yourself some time with it and realistically, as long as you never admit to the lie, then no one can prove it beyond a reasonable doubt. The only difference between a normal politician and a jailed politician is very simple: admission of guilt.
Had they been honest, they may not have gotten such unprecedented unanimous support on the decision to go to war. They would have had supporters, certainly... but they also would have had critics. All they wanted was to get everyone on their side because they feared the consequences of losing the favor of the people that elected to have them in that position in the first place. So, they lied to us and once again, someone worrying more about backlash than ethical behaviors managed to change the way they were viewed in our eyes. In time, those lies became more apparent and another nail was put in the coffin containing our trust for political leaders. Right next to the nails for whitewater, the Iran-Contra scandal, watergate, the Vietnam War, the Bay of Pigs...
At the very least, I would like to one day have leaders that are really willing to make bold decisions. Who worry more about winning our trust than about winning our hearts and minds. The easiest way to win someone's mind over, they think, is to put one over on them. Unfortunately, nobody ever told them that betrayal works only in the short term and it's the surest way to lose your own legacy in the end.
The truth is often annoyingly simple. The problem with honesty is that you fear the initial backlash moreso than the long-term effects of your deception. I would respect a leader who doesn't have this fear, even if I didn't always agree with the choices they made.
Obviously not-- this is my fifth post today. If I were patient, I wouldn't post anything.
When do I cross the point that I can't turn back?
What does it take to make us seperate?
Do I have to wait until an asteroid crashes,
Splitting earth in two: one for me and one for you?
What event has photo opportunities, outrageous personal behavior, bleached smiles and expensive suits? Hollywood's latest awards show? No, the writer's strike thankfully took care of that. Well, what about pious claims, infidelity, buzz-phrase infused sermonizing and blatant attacks on the cultures of others? A television evangelist's show? Nah, there's enough untouched 12-year-olds left on earth to keep all of them busy for decades! Alright, I'll give you one last hint: for one day, the rest of us get to be The Deciders. Yay, you got it! It's a Presidential Election!
It's not really the day you vote that matters, though. It's the two years leading up to it, where people are fighting and apologizing, making and breaking promises and doing whatever it takes to make us like them. These are the exciting times. The times we'll long to remember once the reality of their term sets in and we want to know what possessed us to vote for them in the first place.
Four years from now, most of us won't remember the candidates' stances on the issues. What we'll remember is the same as it always was: the sensational bullshit that we swear we hate. We'll remember Bob Dole's viagra and affinity for third-person speech, Bill Clinton's unwillingness to inhale, John Kerry's war protesting, George Bush's national guard record, John Edward's $400 hair cut, Chuck Norris' attempt to become secretary of defense and Dennis Kucinich's hot wife.
During the campaign seasons, every little thing from someone's past is brought out to discourage our votes. Sounds like an immature scheme and a sure way to drive people away from politics, but it still works. We all know that a presidential term is only good for four years, but we also know that a bad president can leave marks for generations to come. Do we really want our children asking us, "Why did you elect Ron Paul?"
It's due to the fear of that question that we do put so much stock into the gossip and mudslinging side of politics. Every time a new bit of information comes out on a candidate, we think, "Do I really want someone who has blanked a blank in the blank running this country?" It's a big decision to make and there's no harm in us taking people's history into account when we make a potentially life-changing decision based on them.
Think to yourself, though, about those closest to you. Has your wife ever smoked pot? Did your parents protest the war? Did your best friend ever cheat on a girlfriend? Do you hate these people any more now than you did before you found these things out? Are they any less capable as individuals? Now, think a little more... have you ever committed a crime? Do you drink more than once a week? Have you ever told a racist joke to a friend? Now tell me, are you honest? Or, are you at this very moment thinking of ways to get around admitting your actions through semantics? Are you looking for various excuses? You must excuse others before being excused yourself.
Alright, four posts in one day ought to kick this bitch off the way I wanted.
I've laid this one out much better. It reads like all the other schizophrenic LiveJournal entries that little goth girls put up. Anyway, here's part two:
Here, in your bedroom, I can turn my head off. The less that I feel is the less that I’m on top. I wonder what you think as we lay here in bed… I don’t know what I’m thinking, but that’s better for my head. When I wake up tomorrow, will you still feel the same? When I wake up tomorrow, will you have changed? Because, I still feel the same… I wonder what you think. Sometimes I feel so old. I don’t know if it’s worth it when I just do what I’m told. When I wake up tomorrow, will you still feel the same? When I wake up tomorrow, will you have changed? Because, I still feel the same… What if it always bothered me? What if I never did believe? Would it be wrong if I decided I should leave? If I pretended I was blind and struck it from my mind, would it still be there? What if I’d do anything to make it seem all right… It’s all right
What if its all inside my head? What if those words were never said? Would it be easier if I could just forget? You changed my life the day you showed up at my door.
I’ve got this notion in my head: if I go forward then I jump back again into my routine of misery. I try harder just to get along today. I can’t see things through. I got just one chance left and I’m barely hanging on, what can I do? When I’m with you it's all I got. My forbidden pleasure and a life of smoking pot— that’s who I am and I can’t change. The stops have been removed but then our lives are still the same again. That’s who I am.
Our days on earth are short I know, but with a little new direction I can find out where to go and maybe when I get there, baby I’ll see you. I run away cause I'm scared that you might leave. There's nothing wrong, but that's not what I believe. Just tell me it's alright and tell me I'm okay. And tell me that you're staying here tonight. I feel stupid saying words you've heard before. The way I feel today is all I know for sure. If I scare you, I'm only scaring me. I've got so much to say! Why won't you speak with me?
I need to know what you're feeling. Do you feel like I do? Let's talk about everything, I want to share my life with you. Tell me that you feel the way I feel with you. Tell me that you love me like I do. One thing's for sure, I'm all out of angst. Society doesn't bother me and there's something wrong with that. So I'm off to Pakistan, learn the laws of Islam Fundamentalism, forget that rock 'n' roll. No cigarettes, no drinks, in fact It's even difficult to think about getting laid when you don't even get to see her face. I'm not insane. I'm not insane, I'm not liquored up I got nothing to do, nothing to lose, I got no place to call home. One thing's for sure, I'm all out of angst. Society doesn't bother me, and there's something wrong with that. Next stop: Mongolia. Don't get to golf or fuck or bowl with you. Throw out that handicap. No stepping out, till spring, in fact it's difficult to sing when it's 20 below, and that's during the day! I'm not insane.
Sorry I'm late, I was out spoiling my liver. I couldn't wait, the sun was up for far too long today and I can't see straight. But, the two of you look awfully pretty. I couldn't wait, I’ve been awake for far too long today and is it strong enough to burn away the cooking wine? I'm just tired enough that if I close my eyes, I'll sleep for days. I'll sleep for days. Fun? This ain't no fun, because I am UNDER PRESSURE. Done! I am so done. I'm in a mess with everyone, yes, I am UNDER PRESSURE.
I don't get along with me nor anyone. Yes, I am UNDER PRESSURE and filled up with aggression. Leave me alone because I'm UNDER PRESSURE. I usually mean no harm to anybody, but driven to the wall is another case. if you are bugging me you will be sorry… yeah, then you'll come to know the other face. I guess you know this state of confusion, when troubles are too much for you again. You run around but find no solution and pressure's slowly eating up your brain. This ain't no fun…
But, for now, I'll have to dream about your smile 'cause you're not here and all I want to say is that I really miss you. If only I had more time. If I had Jimmy's hairline, then you'd want to be with me. If only you weren't so fine. If only I wasn't so blind, I'd find a way to make you stay. Then, maybe I'd see you. If I woke up with all these things, would it even change your feelings? None of that is even me. But, for now, I'll have to wait another week to see your face and all I want to say is that I really miss you.
You tell me where your skeleton's hiding. Tell me all and I'll tell you. You think you have a real good fucking answer? A fucking answer I'll give you. I look toward the girls and there I found no truth. I looked outside myself, it seemed I lost the good, but when I turn my eyes out from my own head, that's when I realize that I see what I'm really selling. Double-crossed and lied to, I still lack parts that have clung to you. Through it all I've ignored the pain, but here's our return… One more chance of sharing the rest of our days. Days move slowly, weeks spent lonely, years waiting for your return. We have come so far in years that a part of me will always be a part of you.
You know it's killing me... her lack of sensitivity. I want to know: what are her intentions? How did it come to this, with a clenched jaw and a clenched fist? The girl really knows how to piss me off. I remember when things seemed so much different… I’d say hi to her pops when I come to pick her up and see all those family portraits on the wall. Who'd of ever guessed at all? This little girl hides all her pain. With my friends she's made a name. She only loves me for my cash, I only love her for that ass. She's a whore but I don't care. She's a love I've learned to share. I Just want to know, because I don't know, just what I see in you.
I wish I could say that I wrote this, as I am sometimes considered to be a writer and with an ego the size of mine, I ought to be able to write volumes about myself. However, I have never been able to write anything that describes my current relationship status as well as this. It is a clusterfuck of edited song lyrics from some of my favorite songs and bands. All punk and ska. It sounds simple and happy enough when it's playing, but now that I've formed it into a series of direct love letters, you can clearly see that this music is not what it seems to be. This is why I've listened to it unwaveringly for over ten years.
PART 1 OF 2:
Everybody's talkin', they know that I'm lyin'; She gave me everything...all I want is more...
Yea, I wrote this song for her but it won't make up for anything. I know it's too late, so why do I wait? It's not my problem anymore... Some day, maybe she'll come back to me and I'll say, "Why don't you go fuck yourself!?" But, everybody's talkin', they know that I'm lyin'; she won't do anything and I'll always wait for her...
Some day, maybe she'll come back to me and I'll say, "Why don't you go fuck yourself!?" Everybody's talkin', they know that I'm lyin'; She gave me everything but all I want is more. I saw you sitting there, looking on top of the world. He was holding you like you were his. You didn't see me, but I was there last night. His arms around you holding you tight. Now I know that you aren't mine and I'll try to get a little better. Maybe things can be a little better, because I know that you know that things are never gonna change. Was it you or was it me that's making me feel so fucking empty? Like the bottle I drank last night to ease that pain. Without you I'll never be the same. Here I am and you're not, here I am alone. All I want is a picture for me to look at. All I need is for me to look at you when you're not there. I'm lost again and I found you, and I'm so glad you're here. I can't believe I deserve you! I thought I'd let you know that here I am and you're not. Here I am alone. So this is the night, well guess I’d better get ready... so this is the night you’re gonna break my heart?
This is my question, if you’ve been wondering, “Should I have trusted you, lord, From the start?” Because I’ll never trust no-one again! I thought there’s a way this time would be different, but it's just a drag. I thought it was fate; no, it’s just a sin. The more that I wait, the less that I win and I’ll never trust no-one again. It only spoils your happy moments to know they’re here in passing and that they’re never lasting. So, this is the night and this is your answer…
It's painfully clear to me that you've got too much time to analyze the things I say. It obviously hurts to see the tragic comedy that is your life. Well, a wise man said, "Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." And if that is true, then I know you're making other plans to go hang at the mall and play cricket or board games or some other stupid thing like that. This house is full of ears but I can't talk to anyone, they've heard this one a thousand times. The most exciting thing I do is hang half way out a third floor window and maybe throw lit cigarettes down. Maybe I'll catch fire. Something warm to hold me, something pure to burn away the darkness that hides inside my mind. All that evil shit's not hard to find. I guess I only claim to be nice.
This house is full of eyes, but I can't look at anyone, they've seen this face a thousand times. The most relaxing thing I do is hang half way out a third floor window and look at rocks if I fall out. Maybe I'll fall hard onto something tough to break me, something sharp to rip into my insides and bleed out all that pain. How deep is your love? How deep is the ocean? How deep is the sea? And how deep is my love? Its miles away. Miles away...
How much do you want and how far can I take you? How bad does this hurt? How much do I want you? How blind can I be? So when can I see you? Will it ever be and how deep is my love? I've got a regular problem, so my standard break from life is in order. I'm having trouble making sentences, I'm older but I don't feel any smarter. You see, I don't know what I said to you and now you're pissed at you-know-who and I guess I deserve it. I wish I could waste my time without wasting all your time.
I try to leave a good impression, but it's hard when my obsession's in a wine glass. When you're only 23, It's not attractive to complain about your sore back. Yes, I can bitch until my eyes are blue and you're in bed with someone new and I guess you deserve him. But I still wish I could waste my time without wasting all your time. You say I'm fixable: a classic case of lack of will. I say I don't wanna try, I'd rather stay here all night. I've got a motivation problem, so my standard break from life is getting longer. I spent over 30 hours in this bed in two days, I guess I could've phoned her. But now that I'm awake, I'd rather take a drink and walk down to the lake and beg the sky for lightning bolts. I can't waste my time without wasting all your time. You say it's fixable: a classic case of lack of will. I say I don't wanna try, I'd rather sit here all night. She likes to speak like a 6 year old brat, “Mommy discipline me, you know I've been bad.” Start with a cat then she'll move to a crop. Neither one is willing to stop. She knows how girls just wanna have fun, with four piercings on each side of her labia. A little luggage lock connecting each one prevents her girl from going astray. Slut, you think you've seen your master mean? You better lick my puss and asshole clean. Treat my clit like bubble gum. Bitch, make me cum! You never told me what was wrong or what was right.
You never told me why you couldn't sleep at night. I know you've heard this before, but I'll say it once more:
you've done all you can and you can't do any more, but thats alright because I'll just wait and see. One day you'll realize: you never told me. You never told me why you were never around. You never told me why you were so popular in town. I know that it's true, that the damage is done, that you wasted my time while you were out having fun. But, that's alright because I'll just wait and see that you realize you never told me.
You left me every sign, so obvious for all to see but I turned and looked away because I could not bare the thought. So, I shifted all the blame, so it didn't hurt so much. Now the weight is crushing me, I've got to rise and push it off.
The first thing I have to say is... fuck LiveJournal for only allowing me 150 interests on my profile. I'm interested in WAAAAAY more than 150 things.
It's no secret: we live in a consumer culture. Whether it's a certain movie, band, food, or even person: we are not only pleased with our choices in style, we are dictated by them. What you like is nearly inseparable from who you are. Mostly because we've been making these choices since we were children. Our parents didn't raise us, our favorite toys and tv shows did; and, quite often, we are different now only because of the decisions we made at that time. So, in the interest of compartmentalizing my entire character and personality in such a way that I can hopefully free myself of pop culture's strangle on me, I'm making this list of all the things that have altered the course of my natural self. This is an experiment in separation. Since this list is in no particular order, some of it may seem confusing.
I encourage-- NAY, DEMAND that all comers to this post read and research every last item on this list. I want you to know everything about my soul. I require people to be thrilled by my interests. That is, after all, why these web sites HAVE interest fields on them... so that we can all be social copycats and feed off of each other's similarities and differences. Let's all be different together, shall we?
Sam & Max
Mighty Mighty BossToneS
Jeffries Fan Club
Ten Foot Pole
Reel Big Fish
Rage Against The Machine
Drop Dead Fred
Robin Hood: Men In Tights
A Bronx Tale
Most Extreme Elimination Challenge
Chow Yun Fat
Grand Theft Auto
Dr. Hook & The Medicine Show
Super Mario Brothers
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
The Mariachi Trilogy
From Dusk Till Dawn
The Walking Dead
Voodoo Glow Skulls
Street Fighter 2
Mount Gay Rum
Attack Of The Killer Tomatoes
Friar's Club Roasts
Cadillacs & Dinosaurs
Rambo & Rambo cartoons
Eek The Cat
Shnookums & Meat Funny Cartoon Show
Rob Van Dam
Hangin' With The Homeboys
Bump In The Night
Tales From The Crypt
Howard The Duck
Rocko's Modern Life
The Jack Bull
Lord Of The Rings
Dog Day Afternoon
Adventures Of Ford Fairlane
Mom & Dad Save The World
Nothing But Trouble
A Clockwork Orange
Rocky Horror Picture Show
Toots & The Maytals
Less Than Jake
Against All Authority
AnnA To The Infinite Power
Bring Back Joel
Ecco The Dolphin
Super Magnetic Neo
Sweet Baby Ray's BBQ Sauce
Honey Graham Oh's!
Sweet Dreams Cigarettes
American Spirit Cigarettes
Soldier Of Fortune
Supernatural Freak Machine
Spaghetti in a can
White Cheddar Cheese Puffs Or Balls
Tony Hawk Games
David Mamet movies
My Name Is Earl
Baked Lay's Sour Cream & Onion Chips
Onion Dip With Ruffles Chips
Spicy Italian Toasted Subs With Sweet Onion Sauce
Philly Cheese Steaks
Zirh Shaving Cream
Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle
"Orlando Furioso" by Ludovico Ariosto
Kevin Smith movies
BBQ Pulled Beef
Edgar Allen Poe
Sir Francis Bacon
Francois Duc De La Rouchefoucauld
Zany comedies by the Zuckers
The World According To Garp
12 Angry Men
On The Waterfront
The Poseidon Adventure
The Amityville Horror
The first three Rocky movies
William H. Macy
John C. McGinley
Geri Haliwell (Ginger Spice)
A Pyromaniac's Love Story
Jakob The Liar
Red Cherry Icees
Ultimate Cheddar Mix Munchies
The Lost Vikings
Best In Show
To Catch A Predator
Daily Show w/ Craig Kilborn
Quake III: Arena
Ghost Dog: Way Of The Samurai
Late Night w/ Conan O'Brien & Andy Richter
Triumph The Insult Comic Dog
Bad 80's Pop Music
Kung Fu Movies
Last Hero In China
Parker Lewis Can't Lose
High Seas Trader
The word 'Caustic'
Sharks 'N' Minnows
Under The Umbrella Tree - "I'm Not A Lizard, I'm An EEEGUANA!"
The Powers That Be
My Two Dads
The World Of David The Gnome
The Incredible Machine
After Dark Screen Savers
Neighbors From Hell
Cheeburger Cheeburger Milkshakes & Burgers
Mystery Science Theatre 3000
Flight Of The Conchords