February 2010
19 posts
things were better than they are.
When I hear this song I can remember every detail of being there with them. Hell, the lyrics through the first chorus are our story to a tee. When that lead kicks in I can feel the sun beating down upon my face. I see how red it made his hands. Suddenly and all at once I am sitting in that museum, hooking my fingers through that chain link fence, and standing by that stale water fountain. I run...
“The sweetest song is silence that I’ve ever heard.
Funny how your feet in...”
– Heart
Every couple days I get really nervous- that it’s bigger than I am, that I don’t have enough in me to finish it and then survive the aftermath too. But I am the author. Can something you’ve created conquer you in the end? Certainly. Is it, then, worth creating at all?
Certainly.
"People get stung, it's no big deal."
I am far too experienced not to know better. But what if better, actually makes it worse? More complicated.
It is completely ridiculous to say that it might. But what if possibility, was really the only thing left you had to hang onto?
I know that look. It’s in the eyes, and the corners of the mouth, and it says- I know I’m hurting you. Or I’m about to. Or I wish I could...
when you jump the way you jump, the way you jump
I sit down at my computer with a tall glass of water and realize….I have no idea what to say about this weekend, let alone where to start. The Book pages where the past 2 days should have been documented are blank except for a single scribble which inscribes; ‘Score24.’ And suddenly among silliness and simile, I recall just where to begin:
We are on the road for approximately 4 minutes and 26...
“Tom’s eyes, make me wanna cry.
Tom’s eyes, make me wanna...”
– Tom’s Eyes by: Little Mike
dear clyde,
Just.
I have spent years deciphering and combating this very syllable. I’ve changed myself, hurt myself, hung myself, and burned all of my own bridges. And still, many years and many sharpie marks later, I continue to be ”just.” Just the girl. Just the other girl. Just the other girl who I kept things from. Upon revelation, I admit immediately that these instances of altercated...
Hype the Nation (a war story)
And “War!” the serf cried, as the newly fallen snow dripped ominously off her breaking brow, “War shall be the outcry to our foes and the dignity that cometh forth from the haystack. Alas, my people, this is the final stand of our muffled eccentricities! We shall go not alone into the morning; a dawn in which out laden was a mystery of fantastic clout yet predictable illegitimacy. We shall lay not...
sleeping with the enemy.
There’s a field nearby, with words written in stone. “My love will not die; please let it be known.” This place is dead, it echoes through town. There isn’t one voice. I haven’t heard a sound. The Long Island music scene is quiet at nights. Everyone retreats into bomb shelters and non-musical safe havens where they try not to reflect on the war at hand. The airwaves...
Clauses.
There are 2 characters in this story- the girl, and everybody else.
It’s hard to cope with the fact that who you want to matter most to, may not be the people who care for you best. It’s hard to swallow that it’s not ultimately your choice.
It’s hard to be you- in all your youthful ambitions and grown up fears- to both take on the world, and not get left aside at the same...
“…It was then that she realized her crucial mistake; she had become one of...”
when you get the feeling
The downfall of having musicians for friends is in the way they love to immortalize your mistakes. If you’re lucky, you’ll be on track 6 rather than 1. Yet in the event you are not so fortunate, you can come to Streetlight. We get that kinda thing here.
I slouch in the harshly lit basement studio at Matt Lag’s house. I’ve never been here. The Score24 boys have annoyed me into...
Drop Down ½ Step
Eb|————————————————-| Bb|————————————-8——-5-| Gb|—-0——————-7———-9——-5-| Db|-x-0——-5——-7-7-7-7-7-9-9-9-5-|...
