Thursday Novemer 20, 2014

Rob’s in the kitchen making pizza, somewhere down in Battery Park.
I’m singing songs about the future wondering where you are.
I could call you on the telephone, but do I really want to know?
You’re making love now to the lady down the road-
No I don’t, I don’t want to know.

(Santa Monica Dream: Angus and Julia Stone)


Wednesday November 19, 2014

Come up to meet you, tell you I’m sorry, you don’t know how lovely you are.
I had to find you, tell you I need you, tell you I set you apart.

Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions
Oh let’s go back to the start
Running in circles, coming in tails
Heads on a science apart

Nobody said it was easy
It’s such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard
Oh, take me back to the start.

I was just guessing at numbers and figures
Pulling your puzzles apart
Questions of science, science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart

Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start
Running in circles, chasing our tails
Coming back as we are

Nobody said it was easy
Oh it’s such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be so hard
I’m going back to the start

(The Scientist:Coldplay)
These lyrics completely described my yesterday/today.

Monday November 17, 2014

I can’t decide if it’s a choice, getting swept away. I hear the sound of my own voice asking you to stay.
This slope is treacherous; this path is reckless. This slope is treacherous and I like it. Two headlights shine through the sleepless night and I will get you alone. Your name has echoed through my mind and I just think you should know that nothing safe is worth the drive and I will follow you home. I’ll follow you home.

This hope is treacherous. This daydream is dangerous. This hope is treacherous. I like it.

(Treacherous: Taylor Swift)

Don’t give up. Keep going. There is always a chance that you stumble onto something terrific. I have never heard of anyone stumbling over anything while he was sitting down.

I Don’t Like Sleep

“I don’t like sleep. I like glassy, red-tinted, half-shut, blurry visioned ‘fuck me’ eyes. I don’t want to have sex just because it’s nine thirty on a friday night and your parents are out for dinner. I want that look of acceptance from your mother when you say we’ll go out to eat with them and that look of satisfaction from you when you keep your hand on my thigh under the restaurant table all evening. I don’t like sleep. I don’t like laying in bed, just allowing the present to become the past like it meant nothing after it’s happened. I like staying up too late on the good days, and even more on the bad days, thinking that maybe things will get better the longer I’m up – knowing they won’t, but still hoping they might. I like the vulgarity of late nights. Like all the bad decisions come out with the moon, or when the music from the bar across the street gets louder to cover the fact that everybody’s breathing just got a whole lot heavier. I don’t like sleep because I can’t stop thinking that if I didn’t sleep, I could stare at the night sky long enough over time to finally see a star die. People ask me why I look tired all the time. And there’s no way to say that I stayed up all night to count every star to try to sum up even a quarter of a fraction of how I feel for you. So I just say I had nightmares again. And I don’t think I’m entirely wrong. No, I don’t like sleep. I don’t like feeling like I’m missing chunks of my life, like I’m blacking out and not even with a drunk story to tell about it. I don’t like knowing that life fast forwards for me while it’s crawling for you. Because I keep trying to get on my hands and knees to keep up but it doesn’t seem to be working. No, I don’t like sleeping. Not alone, and not here. So maybe not ever.”
-Entirely Wrong by k.p.k.

My Last Serious Relationship in Five Short Chapters

Chapter One

I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost …. I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault
It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter Two
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in this same place.
But, it isn’t my fault
It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter Three
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it there.
I still fall in … it’s a habit … but,
my eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

Chapter Four
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter Five
I walk down another street.

— Portia Nelson, “Autobiography In Five Short Chapters”