What I Am
is what I am and you
What you are oh, what...
-Eddie Brickell and the New Bohemians (probably misspelled)
What I am is not what I was. I've been glued to my iPod at work because music fills up the hole in my head and it fills my insides with warth and buzzing and it tickles my brainstem and clatters about my ribcage. It fills me and lifts my heart to places only music can go. And I have noticed something.
I was so goddamned emo for so long it's not even funny.
And somewhere along the way I developed an appreciation for at least two songs by the Dave Matthews Band, and this troubles me deeply. It also slightly irritates me. So I find myself listening to something like this today:
Yeeaaaah. Yeeeaaah. Hollywood Hils/ pocket fulla shells.... Hey there little darlin' where the old man gone? We can get it down and do it all night long... A cross upon/ Her bedroom wall/ From which/ She will fall...
And then I find Eddie Brickell and listen to the whole thing.
I'm not aware of too many things
I know what I know if you know what I mean.
Philosophy
Is the talk on the cereal box
Religion
Is the smile on a dog...
And then I flip through all my emo songs...
Lift me up, Don't wanna lock me up inside... Well I'm feelin' left behind/ Lord what a waste of time/ They are comin' to get you/ Right on... I lost my heart/ Under the bridge/ To that little girl/ So much to me... All I do/ I can still feel you...
And boy do I have a lot of emo songs.
All that anger, all that pain, just falling away like water and the songs drift away from me on their tide. And the gravelly electric guitar grunge still strikes chords deep within me, but not of kinship. Just of the love of deep, gravelly sounds that fill my whole body with their echoes.
So basically, this is a long entry whining that I feel old because I'm starting to appreciate the acoustic guitar and lose my taste for angry male vocalists.
What you are oh, what...
-Eddie Brickell and the New Bohemians (probably misspelled)
What I am is not what I was. I've been glued to my iPod at work because music fills up the hole in my head and it fills my insides with warth and buzzing and it tickles my brainstem and clatters about my ribcage. It fills me and lifts my heart to places only music can go. And I have noticed something.
I was so goddamned emo for so long it's not even funny.
And somewhere along the way I developed an appreciation for at least two songs by the Dave Matthews Band, and this troubles me deeply. It also slightly irritates me. So I find myself listening to something like this today:
Yeeaaaah. Yeeeaaah. Hollywood Hils/ pocket fulla shells.... Hey there little darlin' where the old man gone? We can get it down and do it all night long... A cross upon/ Her bedroom wall/ From which/ She will fall...
And then I find Eddie Brickell and listen to the whole thing.
I'm not aware of too many things
I know what I know if you know what I mean.
Philosophy
Is the talk on the cereal box
Religion
Is the smile on a dog...
And then I flip through all my emo songs...
Lift me up, Don't wanna lock me up inside... Well I'm feelin' left behind/ Lord what a waste of time/ They are comin' to get you/ Right on... I lost my heart/ Under the bridge/ To that little girl/ So much to me... All I do/ I can still feel you...
And boy do I have a lot of emo songs.
All that anger, all that pain, just falling away like water and the songs drift away from me on their tide. And the gravelly electric guitar grunge still strikes chords deep within me, but not of kinship. Just of the love of deep, gravelly sounds that fill my whole body with their echoes.
So basically, this is a long entry whining that I feel old because I'm starting to appreciate the acoustic guitar and lose my taste for angry male vocalists.