(no subject)
Something's gotta be said for the shift in my behaviour; where I used to just give into morally compromising situations, I test the edge and retreat. Not because...not because I've lost something, but I know that it doesn't get me much farther ahead and the sickness I feel the morning after is more than I'm willing to pay for it.
I guess this is...
...a revived entry?
What the Neutral Milk Hotel is about:
Livia's room, when she was still working in the Rare Books Room and I was waiting for her to return. We'd play sudoku and listen to sad men with guitars and curl up in the heat of the California nights with our mismatched dreams we pretended had complimentary patterns. Sometimes I think I am in love with her.
Other times I think I miss the time we shared, not so much the company, but...here, think about it this way:
I thought I was about to actualize all of the dreams I could dream, and I did that with her. Of course I remember her fondly, she was the partner in crime with whom I expected to conquer the world. Why I miss her like I do, perhaps I hold in her the hope that my dreams(nightmares) will subside, along with my fears and failures.
And I still feel deserted, and like we could have been such a great duo of traveling, fuck it. Maybe I just wish she meant all the things I might have imagined. But I know she used me. Whether she did that because she cared about me and was just scared or did it blindly, I don't know. Fucking Manu Chao and Neutral Milk Hotel on muggy summer nights, winter days in Alameda, whispered stories in the dark of an ancient house, curled up together half dressed and wholly drunk, waking up to MY Against Me! and her somehow singing along and me not totally hating her for knowing the words even though there's not a morsel of punk rock in her blood or on her bones.
Today, it meant the fine line between depressed as fuck and hungry and lonely and dirty, and giddy with happiness and a full stomach and full aloneness and poetry in a sunny café in clean clothes, and I was almost laughing for my good fortune.
There's something about that woman that renders me helpless. Sometimes I hate her for it, but it doesn't matter because we don't treat each other like people anymore anyway. All things considered, I miss her honest company, and wish I could tell her so.
I guess this is...
...a revived entry?
What the Neutral Milk Hotel is about:
Livia's room, when she was still working in the Rare Books Room and I was waiting for her to return. We'd play sudoku and listen to sad men with guitars and curl up in the heat of the California nights with our mismatched dreams we pretended had complimentary patterns. Sometimes I think I am in love with her.
Other times I think I miss the time we shared, not so much the company, but...here, think about it this way:
I thought I was about to actualize all of the dreams I could dream, and I did that with her. Of course I remember her fondly, she was the partner in crime with whom I expected to conquer the world. Why I miss her like I do, perhaps I hold in her the hope that my dreams(nightmares) will subside, along with my fears and failures.
And I still feel deserted, and like we could have been such a great duo of traveling, fuck it. Maybe I just wish she meant all the things I might have imagined. But I know she used me. Whether she did that because she cared about me and was just scared or did it blindly, I don't know. Fucking Manu Chao and Neutral Milk Hotel on muggy summer nights, winter days in Alameda, whispered stories in the dark of an ancient house, curled up together half dressed and wholly drunk, waking up to MY Against Me! and her somehow singing along and me not totally hating her for knowing the words even though there's not a morsel of punk rock in her blood or on her bones.
Today, it meant the fine line between depressed as fuck and hungry and lonely and dirty, and giddy with happiness and a full stomach and full aloneness and poetry in a sunny café in clean clothes, and I was almost laughing for my good fortune.
There's something about that woman that renders me helpless. Sometimes I hate her for it, but it doesn't matter because we don't treat each other like people anymore anyway. All things considered, I miss her honest company, and wish I could tell her so.