like i love you

Jiggle handle when quarter drops to release 5-6 pieces.

for disposablewords

ani difranco’s ‘coming up’ from the album -imperfectly-

our father who art in a penthouse
sits in his 37th floor suite
and swivels to gaze down
at the city he made me in
he allows me to stand and
solicit graffiti until
he needs the land I stand on
I in my darkened threshold
am pawing through my pockets
the receipts, the bus schedules
the matchbook phone numbers
the urgent napkin poems
all of which laundering has rendered
pulpy and strange
loose change and a key
ask me
go ahead, ask me if I care
I got the answer here
I wrote it down somewhere
I just gotta find it
I just gotta find it

somebody and their spraypaint got too close
somebody came on too heavy
now look at me made ugly
by the drooling letters
I was better off alone
ain’t that the way it is
they don’t know the first thing
but you don’t know that
until they take the first swing
my fingers are red and swollen from the cold
I’m getting bold in my old age
so go ahead, try the door
it doesn’t matter anymore
I know the weakhearted are strongwilled
and we are being kept alive
until we’re killed
he’s up there the ice
is clinking in his glass
I don’t ask
I just empty my pockets and wait
it’s not fate
it’s just circumstance
I don’t fool myself with romance
I just live
phone number to phone number
dusting them against my thighs
in the warmth of my pockets
which whisper history incessantly
asking me
where were you I lower my eyes
wishing I could cry more
and care less,
yes it’s true,
I was trying to love someone again,
I was caught caring,
bearing weight but I love this city, this state
this country is too large
and whoever’s in charge up there
had better take the elevator down
and put more than change in our cup
or else we
are coming
up

pay your debts on time

is there a safe way to tell someone you’re done.

cause if you are done and you are really done. 

the point of no return, done.

if you are so done then you are done.

and relaying this to any sensible person, if you are a soul, should hurt to some degree.

how do we bear this hurt.  should we could we. have we will we. how dare we. done.

and what is done these days, is never really done. 

unless, it’s done. 

but really, nothing is really ever done.

—– –     —

somehow i was feeling okay.  i made an effort this morning to style my mood, the same as i had styled my hair, selected my clothes.  chose my watch.  rearranged my purse.  yet, because the driveway connected to the house, i was unaware the mood the sun would cast upon my odd self-satisfaction, for it had been raining two weeks straight.    i watched you walk through the kitchen. i studied your wrinkled jeans and the way you were moving through the back door.  i studied the backs of your arms and your hand holding loosely to your keys that dangled like shards of glass glimmering the instant you were in the sun. you walked over to open the passenger door, and i shuffled down into the seat as i’d always done.  you pulled out into the street from the garage and i immediately began to panic.  any mild form of acceleration, your foot on the gas pedal produced a drug induced nausea and a slither of a headache coupled with a haunting unspoken criticism.  i felt like a wicked beast gliding in your car, a step away from falling through floor then ground into hell.  as you shifted and smiled at the open road, i began to break.

alice in chains – over now

walk it out/UNK

i used to live in boston, massachusetts. well, i was a student and under the umbrella of not having to seriously worry about major stuff, except boys, homework, the T, crazy college professors, groceries, getting the newest copy of a tori amos album at tower records, seeing the new spice girl’s movie, walking through the mall to legal seafood, wondering if me and my pal would make it walking all the way from the cheesecake factory in cambridge back to our dorm in kenmore square. we did make it and i’m alive today to blog. thank God (looking up to the sky, smiling). but on those other nights, when i found the world a cold slab of hard reality and really, really emotionally heavy, there was something that i could do that would alleviate a migraine type worry, and formulate it into something as small as sand. cut to now…2006, the month of december. i decided to take a longer walk from the maildrop to my car after work. and there was something in the cold crisp air that brought me back to boston. the idea that i could ‘walk out’ my problems. it’s something about being human, weary and confused, emotional and sarcastically alive that brings a better type of existence. how pathetic and lame would this world be without drama and inconsistencies and pain? for joy is made sweet by it. delectable even. that’s if we don’t give up. i remember walking up commonwealth avenue in boston, late one night. i had to cover a story on wrestling and had parted ways with a friend and decided to walk the way home in light rain and a little sexy east coast fog. i was clearly upset, angry, and confused with something/someone, and this was some kind of tragic thing that had been thriving for weeks. it was a pleasant mind clearing cold outside and i walked and watched faces that didn’t look like mine pass me by. as well as the T moving, taxies screeching, people walking. and i sort of realized that problems and troubles are worth bearing because, well, they make us human and they help us make better choices, if we are smart. walking gave and gives me clarity.

my time under a luminous sky, looking up to see corporate men standing in an office with their backs against corporate windows, seeing stars that signify to me that my problems and i are so miniscule in the grand scheme of the world, that time alone will sort out emotions from reality. this time allows me to find me. giving me a better appreciation for not knowing, but living to know.

and, of course, this brings me to my video pick. the group UNK has a song called, “walk it out.” and although i have nothing major to ‘walk it out’ to, i’ll post it in this place for any time to come. no, i don’t ‘walk out’ quite like this, but, uh, you can ohhh so try.

she’s crafty

i really hate to brag but i think i’ve come close to crafting the most perfect cd mix.  it’s better than sliced bread, my pillows and two bucks in quarters.  look it over. tell me what i should have added…or deleted. until then, i gloat. and yeah…music taste is all over the place. but so are the times.

1 jumpers-sleater-kinney
(the only substance is the fog and it hides all that has gone wrong, can’t see a thing inside the maze)

2 fortress around my heart-sting
(walking on the mines i’ve laid) 3 englishman in new york-sting
(i don’t drink coffee i take tea, my dear. i like my toast done on one side)

4 eple-royksopp
(no words just makes me glittery)

5 remind me-royksopp
(brave men tell the truth, a wise man’s tools are analogies and puzzles)

6 this is it-ryan adams
(let me sing a song for you that’s never been sung before)

7 so alive-ryan adams
(i am on your side and so alive)

8 let’s get blown-snoop dogg and pharrell williams
(we’ll head to the hills, your dreams i’ll fulfill, we could do it how you want, cause i’m oh so real)

9 groove thang-zhane
(we’re moving on, keeping strong, don’t you let them steer you wrong)

10 down here in hell-van hunt
(but the closer to the sun we go, the better)

11 don’t get me wrong-the pretenders
(if you say “hello” and i take a ride upon a sea where the mystic moon is playing havoc with the tide, don’t get me wrong)

12 the thrill of this life-van hunt
(i’ll never get over the thrill of this love)

13 once in a lifetime-the talking heads
(same as it ever was…same as it ever was)

14 outside-staind
(but i’m on the outside and i’m looking in, i can see through you, see your
true colors)

15 tomorrow-silverchair
(it’s twelve o’clock, and it’s a wonderful day, i know you hate me, but i’ll ask anyway)

16 ‘93 til infinity-souls of mischief
(i’m posted, most kids accept this as cool, i exit, cause i’m an exception to the rule)

17 renegades of funk-rage against the machine
(now renegades are the people with their own philosophies they change the course of history everyday people like you and me)

18 blurry-puddle of mudd
(everyone is changing, there’s no one left that’s real, to make up your own ending and let me know just how you feel)