(no subject)
several revelations today.
1. dakota is convinced that my body has been taken over by a pod person.
2. michael scheffield has some pretty great insight into the male mind.
3. my roomates are still the shit.
4. michael scott pays well for food delivery.
5. haley cochran just can't fucking act right.
playing a show may 24th, which should be lots of fun. bender is going away on tour, again. i love seeing her do what she does. everytime i see her play is better than the last. she's a magical person.
mikey scheffield and i just had a 2 hour talk on my neighbour's balcony. he essentially confirmed my thoughts and without placating me, told me straight up what the deal was. i've never been happier and more free in my life. he is truly one of the better people in this world, with the most amazing intuition. i love him dearly, even though we've butted heads on several different occasions.
i am off all the rest of this week, and i think i am going to look for a new job where i make more money/get more hours because the Crab Pot is quickly going under. there's just no way in hell it's going to stay open much longer. my manager got fired and i have no idea why. i guess the owners are going to manage it now, but i'm not sure. all i know is , mama gotta pay rent. if anyone knows of anything, plz let me know. that'd be aces.
i was wrong about the song all along. completely wrong. i am writing the response to it. i can't believe i misinterpreted the lyrics for so many years. i'm riding through the canyons, through the devlish cold.i'm thinking about isis. i am so wreckless. isis is not even a person, it's an idea, and ideal. such a thick mask, you're not even human anymore. and i love it. no longer my isis, i curse it one time, and i rode on ahead.
my friend john goforth is an amazing musician and is going to be working with me on some of the songs i've been writing. he's also going to learn "dirge" for me to cover. the final chapter, the final nail in the coffin. the be all, the end all. the closed door. finally...i can breathe. he likes my music enough to want to work with me on it and be a part of it, and i find that absolutely beautiful. on the flyer for the show caitlin made my tagline "sweet heartache melody". and that's essentially what it is. i wouldn't trade all the sleepless nights, all the bottles of mad-dog, all the horrendous hangovers, all the swollen cheeks and frizzy hair and sedatives and angry phone calls and pathetic texts. i wouldn't trade any of it because it has made what i write completely real. absolutely and one hundred percent transparent. it's made me feel very absolutely, positively fourth street. it's given me a reason to pick up a guitar and write anything in the first place. stepping stone. stepping stone. stepping stone. it's like, there are people like me in the world to let it all fly and loose and say these horribly sad things and sing these horribly sad songs. i was made for it. i wasn't made to make people feel comfortable and mollycoddle them. i was made to be raw and passionate and feeling. i bucked against it my entire life. i wasn't made to be a robot. i was made to destroy them.
i feel rejuvenated.
i've been going through a very strange transition, one that involves another. i sat and stared at my wall for literally an hour trying to get it straight in my head. physically, i haven't been alone, but mentally i have this entire time. i've been completely in my own head, pining and feeling lonesome. but now my brain is assaulted by another, it's not a ruse. how the fuck did i let this happen? it came out of nowhere. one minute i'm sitting in a car listening to sleater-kinney and enjoying someone's company the next i'm laying in bed at night wondering if they'll ever break my heart. because i can feel myself giving it away, aquiescing itself to someone that's not me. feeling my breath catch in my throat when i'm threatened. i'm scared, because i've been proven that i'm not bulletproof and i've spent the past year building up my defenses for any other attack. what if the walls aren't ready? but i feel like i don't even need them. i feel like my entire life has been spent keeping people out, when if i'd only let them in fullly, i'd be happier.
there is another now that makes me feel passionate enough to fight, that makes me feel like i am the alpha, i am the omega. that challenges me to the point of frustration with myself because my perfection complex sometimes gets far out of hand. sometimes my self-loathing gets to the points of obnoxiousness. sometimes i hate myself so much that i simply cannot possibly relate to anyone who finds me in the least appealing.
i am an over-thinker. i've become what i want to be for now, and it's an ever-changing beast, a shape-less creature void of form.
we are not on the same level. i'm a human being. some people are just bodies, merely placeholders, breathing peices of furniture. wear them out, piss on them, then throw them out. not all beings are created equal. that's why we domesticated livestock. OWNED.
now i'm tired and mildly delirious so consider this.
1. dakota is convinced that my body has been taken over by a pod person.
2. michael scheffield has some pretty great insight into the male mind.
3. my roomates are still the shit.
4. michael scott pays well for food delivery.
5. haley cochran just can't fucking act right.
playing a show may 24th, which should be lots of fun. bender is going away on tour, again. i love seeing her do what she does. everytime i see her play is better than the last. she's a magical person.
mikey scheffield and i just had a 2 hour talk on my neighbour's balcony. he essentially confirmed my thoughts and without placating me, told me straight up what the deal was. i've never been happier and more free in my life. he is truly one of the better people in this world, with the most amazing intuition. i love him dearly, even though we've butted heads on several different occasions.
i am off all the rest of this week, and i think i am going to look for a new job where i make more money/get more hours because the Crab Pot is quickly going under. there's just no way in hell it's going to stay open much longer. my manager got fired and i have no idea why. i guess the owners are going to manage it now, but i'm not sure. all i know is , mama gotta pay rent. if anyone knows of anything, plz let me know. that'd be aces.
i was wrong about the song all along. completely wrong. i am writing the response to it. i can't believe i misinterpreted the lyrics for so many years. i'm riding through the canyons, through the devlish cold.i'm thinking about isis. i am so wreckless. isis is not even a person, it's an idea, and ideal. such a thick mask, you're not even human anymore. and i love it. no longer my isis, i curse it one time, and i rode on ahead.
my friend john goforth is an amazing musician and is going to be working with me on some of the songs i've been writing. he's also going to learn "dirge" for me to cover. the final chapter, the final nail in the coffin. the be all, the end all. the closed door. finally...i can breathe. he likes my music enough to want to work with me on it and be a part of it, and i find that absolutely beautiful. on the flyer for the show caitlin made my tagline "sweet heartache melody". and that's essentially what it is. i wouldn't trade all the sleepless nights, all the bottles of mad-dog, all the horrendous hangovers, all the swollen cheeks and frizzy hair and sedatives and angry phone calls and pathetic texts. i wouldn't trade any of it because it has made what i write completely real. absolutely and one hundred percent transparent. it's made me feel very absolutely, positively fourth street. it's given me a reason to pick up a guitar and write anything in the first place. stepping stone. stepping stone. stepping stone. it's like, there are people like me in the world to let it all fly and loose and say these horribly sad things and sing these horribly sad songs. i was made for it. i wasn't made to make people feel comfortable and mollycoddle them. i was made to be raw and passionate and feeling. i bucked against it my entire life. i wasn't made to be a robot. i was made to destroy them.
i feel rejuvenated.
i've been going through a very strange transition, one that involves another. i sat and stared at my wall for literally an hour trying to get it straight in my head. physically, i haven't been alone, but mentally i have this entire time. i've been completely in my own head, pining and feeling lonesome. but now my brain is assaulted by another, it's not a ruse. how the fuck did i let this happen? it came out of nowhere. one minute i'm sitting in a car listening to sleater-kinney and enjoying someone's company the next i'm laying in bed at night wondering if they'll ever break my heart. because i can feel myself giving it away, aquiescing itself to someone that's not me. feeling my breath catch in my throat when i'm threatened. i'm scared, because i've been proven that i'm not bulletproof and i've spent the past year building up my defenses for any other attack. what if the walls aren't ready? but i feel like i don't even need them. i feel like my entire life has been spent keeping people out, when if i'd only let them in fullly, i'd be happier.
there is another now that makes me feel passionate enough to fight, that makes me feel like i am the alpha, i am the omega. that challenges me to the point of frustration with myself because my perfection complex sometimes gets far out of hand. sometimes my self-loathing gets to the points of obnoxiousness. sometimes i hate myself so much that i simply cannot possibly relate to anyone who finds me in the least appealing.
i am an over-thinker. i've become what i want to be for now, and it's an ever-changing beast, a shape-less creature void of form.
we are not on the same level. i'm a human being. some people are just bodies, merely placeholders, breathing peices of furniture. wear them out, piss on them, then throw them out. not all beings are created equal. that's why we domesticated livestock. OWNED.
now i'm tired and mildly delirious so consider this.