Lisa is talking at me about how philosophy created the world so we should all hate it less. I don't hate it, but I'm trying to watch t.v

writeright

I feel as though I've spent my whole week trying to capture something that is always on the tip on my pen. But, as with the whole 'tip of the tounge' debacle, I cannot find the right words. I don't even know what it is I'm meant to say. Something is there, though. I would almost hate it if it weren't a reminder I am alive. It's a bad night to be alone, but that's the way it goes. I'm counting the days until a vaction. The number still seems too high. Too high. hahah. (I guess I'm having inside jokes with myself now, great, that seems sane)

This is what's in my brain:

Why the hell is Naveen Andrews on Law and Order? Have you fallen so far, Sayid? I hope not. (3 weeks)

The biggest headlines today were the earthquake in Haiti and Conan v. Leno.
Conan ftw.

I'm watching local news and the fire department is practicing ice rescues in Lake Springfield. We have a lake?!? Why didn't I know that? Lakes are kind of hard to miss, right?

The sports guy is way too enthusiastic about high school sporting events. He's old and this is boring. There is no way I spelled 'enthusiastic' right. No way.

If I walk past a vending machine and there's candy hanging there, by the coils, I will for certain smack the hell out of that machine to get the candy. I don't care what it is. Even if it's Skittles. I hate 'em, but hey, Free Skittles. Put that in your Sprite and chug it.

I've been sitting in this broken, horrible armchair for the past 4 hours. Productivity fail, relaxation win. It kind of bothers me when I come home from class and someone else is sitting in my chair. Like, a lot. I don't know why, I've never claimed it really, just sort of thought it was understood that if I sit somewhere long enough in my bathrobe, that place belongs to me. My chair.

I was at the boy's house for 3 days straight, prompting Ferranto and Cole to ask if I'd been peeing there. 'Marking my territory', they called it. I said yes. All your boys are belonging to me.

Andrea MacMullen, better known as the girl who trashed the McDonalds in K.C, said that the girl behind the counter 'prompted' her to it. She got charged w. a felony and hid in her closet. 'They set her off'. The anchors are making fun of her and Lisa Rose (anchor) just laughed and lightly hit the male anchor in the chest while telling him to 'shut-up'. I think they may be sleeping together.

(c)here's to Everyman

Rooms jammed full of faux intellectuals.
Yes, pretention, yes, education.
Let's push our glasses up our collective nose.
Wear houndstooth scarves
where we all smoke cloves.

Yes, I understand.
No, I don't agree.
Lean left 'cause it's cool
or rather, 'cause it's not.

We drink PBR on our off hours
and capture ourselves w. vintage cameras
held high above our heads
angled in mirrors,
solo.

Tweed jackets w. too short sleeves
sparrows on chests, exposed
thru bright neon V's.
And nothing's wrong,
nothings wrong,
our time is playing a borrowed song.

But cheers to that
'cause we're all goin' down.
Trust fund's up
S'best we blend.
Thin legs on fixies swinging
like our stretched out lobes
-but-
that's not so pretty anymore.

So stitch 'em up and grow a beard.
Buy some Av's or Ray's and a calculator watch.
Not that we care,

'cause we don't care.

Villiany to Romance

Last night I died
and was not reborn.
The dreams I dream
make mothers mourn.

Tried to walk,
could only crawl.
The Ether man,
he shook my wall.

Closer now to sea
than ground.
Jump to see
my faith rebound.

Do angels fly
on wings of grace?
These nights have put
my soul in place.

Head in the clouds
feet on the ground.
Needles in veins
can't drag me down.

Not soon enough
Not quick enough
God, you need me?
Not enough.

There's blood on my hands
and sin on my mind.
In the end
what will you find?

The ghost of a Girl
that you once knew?
Gentle impression
of knee to pew?

Get off your knees girl,
Don't you dare.
Wouldn't advise
a gamble on prayer.

Thoughts of Jan. 11th, early morning

There's something inside I wanna expres-s
There's a weight I wanna get lifted off this ches-t.
But you're all distracted and sidetracked
sidewinding thru this tide
And I don't wanna inte-rupt.
I don't wanna make things harder
not for you
not for you
not for anyone.
So I'll keep it inside
'cause I ain't that attention stealin' whore
I ain't that des-pera-te for your
fake love your
momentary adoration.
I wanna say
it
I wanna tell
you.
But I'm not gonna bring things down.
I don't wanna shift this mood
in my direction.

But there's this - thing
inside
and it pulls me: down down
and it turns me: 'round 'round

It's this worm
between my skin and flesh
and it eats at my clean bill of health
and it grows
fat on my fat
and it - l i n g er s
crawls
between my flesh and my guts
and it twines itself 'round
my soft palated organs
and sometimes it
leaks
from my nose.
and - escapes
on my breath.
in angry passive words
and dark agressive acts.

And it holds me tight like a lover
warm
on those cold winter soul nights

And that, at least,
is constant
and that at least
is relief