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hit a real bad slump
on a friday night
got whiskey drunk,
got into a fight
just don't know when to say no more
just don't know when to say no more
well i tried to come in
you said you understood
anyway what do you want?
gimme something that's good
just don't know when to say no more
just don't know when to say no more
you said there you are man,
i thought you were gone
we resolved our little difference
and moved on
we got over the railings
and into the park
i had my nose in the wet grass
you were looking at the stars
just don't know when to say no more
just don't know when to say no more.
a lot has changed in the past month. where i sleep. who i spend all of my time with. whether or not i write. my whole world has gone topsy turvy sideways in the last month, but some things stay the same.
his voice on the other end of the phone still makes me feel like Christmas morning and comfort. my ankles still hurt when i wake up in the morning and scream in pain in the evenings. i still work for the green monster, just in a new, slightly less professional setting.
but in a glorious turn of events, i now have something i didn't have before. a commute. I know, you're all going, what, you wanted one? and my honest answer is, well, yes.
the half hour one way up and one way back is a blissful decompression period that i'm not sure how i dealt without. its most of a short record. its all of the new arcade fire record, actually, fabulous but short as hell and over in a blink. but lately, since i miss my boyfriend and a million other things, its been whiskeytown.
its been a virtual littany of songs i could regurgitate lyrically without thinking, the whole of stranger's almanac and pneumonia over and over again. sometimes i skip a track or two. okay, to be honest, i skip avenues every single time it comes up and i wasn't entirely sure why until i forgot to push my fingertip against the little black face of my ipod.
it catches in my throat. it angles against my tear ducts. it makes me want to go home except that home isn't a place, its a person. it renders me emotionally idiotic for the duration and leaves me still recovering from my tears two songs later.
i used to listen to that song on the way home from work before, late, late, late at night, when i knew he'd be asleep, pushing the edges of the tires over cresting hills and rolling slowly past the edges of curbs and suggestions of stop signs gone past in my mid century neighborhood.
now i hear it against the chill of october air, almost two hundred miles away, and it starts to gain momentum, i start to feel the air on my face and the star begging from the side of the mountain i can only conceptualize and i wonder, maybe, if there isn't something to the pull of that neon bastard. but then i realized, in a moment of sheer, succinct, black and white thought, that if he wasn't there, my mind wouldn't be there either.
maybe its just the need to hold onto, to cherish and believe something other than myself. maybe that's what love is. maybe its just choking up when you finally let yourself hear your song. maybe its trying to figure out why you couldn't play it all those months. maybe its all of those things. maybe its nothing.
but really, it can't be nothing. it can't be an opening break chord that reminds you of the smell of a neck and the feel of a hand. the way a smile slowly, rarely happens and the way one foot moves in front of the other. the way he looks when he's sleeping. the way he is when he thinks you're not looking. so maybe its nothing. but maybe its everything.
_Know the cops here they can’t run down to your house
Sometimes I’ll sit and wish I were somewhere else
So let’s dim the daylights for us sweethearts that we are
Sometimes I find myself still lying in your arms
All the sweethearts of the world
Are out dancing in the places
Where me and all my friends go to hide our faces_
_Avenues run one way
Streets they run the same
Something in the air here
Still keeps me away_
_Though the cops here they can’t take me to your house
I get directions and pretend I was somewhere else
All the sweethearts of the world are out littering the bars
And I am still avenues from any place you are_
_You know avenues run one way
The streets they run the same
It’s going to take a lot of shit for me to stay away_
1. what do you put on a mixtape for the guy who has, literally, fucking everything?
2. pandora does NOT suggest music i care to hear. i find this odd, to say the least.
3. whiskeytown is my current obsession. yes. again.
4. punk rock chicks who seem to have it all figured out don't. its what makes us seem like there's something dangerous, i suppose. the vast, uncomfortable unknown.
5. i saw this book not that long ago titled something like "the eight women you'll be before 35" which seemed like a ridiculously clunky title, but more so, seemed like total bullshit. i've been the same person for quite some time now, and even after my latest and greatest birthday, continue to be a woman who carries the principles of keith richards, betty page and elizabeth taylor in her soul. maybe its not like this for the rest of the planet. and who knows, maybe it'll change, but i doubt it.
6. coming home from work with feet that hurt horribly and not even getting to wear posh shoes sucks.
7. i do not think the new ryan adams record is brilliant. but i do think its pretty. damned. good. and i'll take solid from someone who a year ago was a little too all over the damned map for anyone's comfort.
8. i'm still listening to too much oasis and paul weller.
9. is there such a thing as too much paul weller?
10. that is all.
Comments
1. whales humping?
2. are you concerned about this?
3. hello, brickbat.
4. um, i've never seen a punk rock chick who seemed to have it all figured out. they always seemed scared and vulnerable to me. maybe that's just a perception thing.
5. oh, you'll change.
6.yeah. i'm sorry.
7. personally, still sick of ryan adams, but if you say so . . .
8. okay.
9. this is a rhetorical question, right?
1: a little of yourself.
3: i once saw whiskeytown live. that was pretty cool. wish i could find a tape i use to have of them from those days. they use to do a fine cover of the fleetwood mac tune 'rhiannon'.
5: change your motor oil. like say every 3-4 thousand miles.
keef will appreciate it.
7: i practically wore out the digital grooves on the damn thing,
when it first came out.. but then i misplaced it somewhere... not sure where it disappeared to.. your comment has got me jones-in' for another listen.
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Reading this on a cold October morning, looking out the picture window next to my desk, I find myself staring at the colors of autumn. Fallen leaves stick down in a collage of shapes and colors on the street pavement while fresh leaves blow loose and slowly twirl downward through the brisk breezes, fluttering about and fighting gravity as if they understand that flight means beauty, but falling means death.
My hands are cold and shivering, my body achy from the air's chill. The only thing that makes me feel as if I'm anything other than some unseen atmospheric entity is my breath - a cadence of inhale/exhale that somehow rolls in rhythm with the sounds from my speakers, and in turn the beating of my heart ... And even when that breath keeps me hanging on like a spider from the thinnest webstring, I find myself holding it as goosebumps rise on my arms - I hold that breath for these words you've written, because the feeling they've given me is one I never want to lose hold of ...
For about 5 years, I had an hour-long commute each way to work. As big a pain and expense as it was in keeping the vehicle(s) up to the task - I oft times miss it. I had worked up a great discipline to work on songs by putting backing tracks on CDs and working on the vocals while cruisin' along. I'd keep a little micro cassette recorder with me in case I wanted to preserve something. Now, it's 10 minutes and no time to do anything but sip at a half cup of coffee.
Regardless the mood your spinning at, your posts always leave me feeling my own existence is a bit drab. The eloquent way you reveal your emotions on here is brave and appreciated. As Gary says - goosebumps.