as my last official post, at least for the semester, (who knows, maybe i'll keep this blogging thing up) i suggest that everyone read Neil Gaiman. if you like fantasy and comedy, he is a great writer. i just finished Annasi Boys -i strongly recommend it.

in the upper-left corner of my mind there is a spark
flickering
it came out of a dream i had last night
and doesn't seem to want to leave.

they're already singing christmas songs...
it's not yet thanksgiving.

let the commercialism flow...

i've got my mind on things that have no meaning

i've got my eyes on you

well, there is always a reason

a reason to keep being 

the girl across the road

waiting for the traffic to stop

in a green wool coat

and swaying perfectly in the cold breeze

when she walks she keeps her head down

eyes on the road

and is gone

somewhere i don't know

there is nothing as disgusting as fake perfection

like bright plastic,

like frozen food

like that shit you hear on pop radio

i want something real,

strong and alive.

remember when life was worth living?

don't let if fade away,

there's still time left...

the cheese sandwich she had smelled strong and quite disgusting
who eats those kinds of things?



i had the inclination to leave...
but of course i stayed.


i always stay...

Melvin was very popular
Everyone wanted to be near him
They gathered in a huddle around him
He looked good, clean and sharp
Smiling blandly, with his eyes half closed
Dreaming
When they cut him open
They poked through his insides and probed
Curiously
Wondering what they'd find
Melvin didn't really mind
For one thing he was dead
And since it was either a biology lab table
or be made into bacon
it really didn't matter anyway.

turn down the lights, placate the drunk,

kill the telephone

i don't want to spit this one out 

and have you rape me later on 

now ladies and gentlemen

i used to be a notorious killer

and then i became the world's greatest dancer

always asking what the truth was

and never waiting for an answer 

now it's the clay inside this heart of stone

and the concrete in my head

i know there's a fine line 'tween the living and the dead

and i used to go to slasher films

and leave feeling pretty free

it's really quite cathartic 

to see yourself up on the screen

and i've been driving the nails

firmly in your tree

you've been talking to your father 

on behalf of me

nothing at these checkpoints

i care to defend 

why do i raise the hammer up

and drive the nails again?

now in the graveyard of my secrets

there's a hope buried beneath 

all this talk of peace and righteousness 

has got me weary beyond belief 

and there's an unwanted mistress

in my bed late at night

she says "i know you're a criminal,

you've been on death row all your life."

and i've been driving the nails

firmly in your tree 

you've been talking to your father

on behalf of me

nothing at these checkpoints

i care to defend

why do i raise the hammer up

and drive the nails again?

-bill mallonee 

something in my head stirring,
certain in uncertainty
hopeless dreaming
neverending light


there isn't really anything to say,

say something anyway

the sky can't make up her mind
she's drifting in and out of sunlight
letting down snow and rain
and closing
above my head
as i walk with my head down
wondering

waking up in the early morning, out of dreams

no where to go today

nothing to do 

perfect

well, she was drinking a latte
and i told her that we should fall in love
she said what
i said never mind
she said like the nirvana album?
i said yeah
and she looked at my funny
i thought maybe i could kiss her
if she didn't run away

she ran away

falling up into thin atmosphere

clouds long and trailing pink from the sun

homework getting to be too much

out into the dark world where the wind is cool

and the smell of pine is strong

here you can think, uninterrupted 

here you can dream, endlessly 

here you can be.

when the sky is blue and bright, you can feel good and drive and listen to the shins
when the sky is wet and raining, you can feel bad and drive and listen to radiohead

but when the sky is gray like slate and unyeilding there's not much to feel... not much to listen to either... maybe the news.

sometimes it's better not to say anything.

and maybe just listen to the strokes...


you want to be cool,
but cool people don't think...

i've got problems too

it's not just me standing there in black
with the wind blowing through me
and that dark look on my face


i'm somebody

snow blanketing the hard ground

and laying thick on my car


i'm not sure how i feel about that...

the voice like an old, persistent motor
was rattling on, never dying
and he was listening, listening, listening
and dreaming, dreaming, dreaming
the words
if they meant anything
he couldn't tell you what
he could tell you that if was hot
and stiff and stuffy
and the air was thick
and the walls were closing in
around him
the ceiling was falling down
on top of him
but he could see outside
the deep, dark sky
and the sharp, piercing stars
and feel the cool, night breeze
as it flew through the trees
running through the wet grass
that motor never dying behind him
sputtering
if there was a river rushing fast
with the full moon hanging low over it
he would jump in
and cause more than a ripple
less than a wave
and swim to the other side
and pull himself out
the water dripping off his skin
he might lie on the shore
and look up at the sky
see a fast falling star
and make a wish.

weekend's almost over... but it was good... too short







tomorrow never knows.

if only tonight we could sleep

in a bed made of flowers

if only tonight we could fall

in a deathless spell

if only tonight we could slide

into deep, black water 

and breathe...

and breathe...

then an angel would come

with burning eyes like stars 

and bury us deep

in his velvet arms 

and the rain would cry

as our faces slipped away

and the rain would cry

don't let it end...

-Robert Smith aka the Cure 

elliot smith: always good on a cold, frosty morning in October...