Let’s sit here in silence and pretend we’re brooding he said, idly hooking his finger into the only loose string hanging from the seam of my flannel, stolen from his closet that morning.
If he had time, he’d remember
the ebony bend of the staircase
and the cheap bottle of wine
cracked open in a basement
poured into thin paper cups
and spilled over the cement floor
that froze our toes
because I remembered his hands on his head,
the spotlight on his concave stomach,
a freckle to the left of his bellybutton,
the brown birthmark on his right hip
and the blue and red lights
reflected off his belt buckle.
But I kept banging my knuckles
against the red and rusted water tower we sat in
because I grew up hating democrats
and I could pull every string out of every one of his flannels
and he would still shake his head when I said
all I wanted was a hut in a mountain
and a garden and a book and to run
for the rest of my life and not his Swiss bank account
or his castle in England or his gold rimmed toilets or
the platinum diamond ring, a size to small
jammed over my dirty cracked finger.
I’d rather be running
I’m now at the point where 7 cups of coffee is a normal day
I might need to consider trying to lower that number..
If you can find a path with no obstacles, it probably doesn’t lead anywhere.
— Frank A. Clark
Stories and cigarettes ruined lives of lesser girls
And I wanna know,
‘Cause I want you to know,
And it’s a strange condition,
A day in prison,
It’s got me out of my head
And I don’t know what I came for.
Strange Condition - Pete Yorn
Oh lets get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France
Lets get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance
Lets get rich and build a house on a mountain making everybody look like ants
From way up there, you and I, you and I
Well you might be a bit confused
And you might be a little bit bruised
But baby how we spoon like no one else
So I will help you read those books
If you will soothe my worried looks
And we will put the lonesome on the shelf
You and I - Ingrid Michaelson
nothing is more distracting when i’m trying to get work done than the mirrors in my room when i’m having a good hair day
apparently i’ve had a twitter since 2009, who knew
haven’t used it once, not sure what 16 year old me was thinking
I thought she was pretty
She’s nothing like the things you said
The woman you described
Couldn’t even turn your head
The two of you look lost inside a world all your own
Like you couldn’t wait to get her alone
So I guess that means that things are better
Must not be so bad at home
I thought it looked like you were leavin’
But it don’t
And I heard you tell her you still love her
So it doesn’t matter what you say
I saw it all
From a table away
From a Table Away - Sunny Sweeney
