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| The night's still young |
| 06.27.04 (10:38 pm) [edit] |
My hand screamed in stiffness, alerting me that my head had been down for far too long. It's moments like these that remind me that reality is real. You can laugh, that's okay; it is kinda funny, but pathetic at the same time.
I'm moving again, in an attempt to find a place where I can be happy. Maybe there is better than here, but the probability of that happening is so low, it's insane.
And through it all, I got this funny feeling that something happened.
[i]--intangible--
if you
could just give me a moment
i swear that i can hold it
if you promise not to let me be the fool
as i
swirl the many colors
sever all the lovers
that seem to be attached to me at the sleeve
i could
take me
put me in a glass box
and set me up so i'll drop
to hit the floor and shatter everywhere
and twist
this off-white painted canvas
until it looks just like us
something else for you to burn
i could
sink... crush me, i'll expire
i should be the liar
this regret doesn't make any
sense... crack the case wide open
kill me with out knowing
this regret seems so out of place
if you
could just leave me on the shelf
where i can still give you hell
whenever you've gone to get all new then i'll
promise
not to tell anyone
about the turns of your fun
or the story of the one that you forgot
sink... crush me, i'll expire
i should be the liar
this regret doesn't make any
sense... crack the case wide open
kill me without knowing
this regret seems so out of place
these words are
interchangeable
misconstruded
just like me with every guy you meet
and you seem so
so intangible
so untouchable
and suddenly, i see why you don't love me
--
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| bled so dry, i am a desert |
| 06.27.04 (12:17 am) [edit] |
Well, I'm guessing that the era is over.
To be honest, I think I could have cared more. Like a silly toy, I fell down the steps of "how to burn a bridge" with a sickening thud at the bottom. I've often wondered if I'm somewhat clairvoyant, as for most instances, I can predict the outcome of events, and this one was just like the rest. I knew what would happen weeks before it did. I watched like the horrible observer of a train wreck as the locomotive slipped off the tracks and tore into the side of a mountain.
Things get to me.
Daily, I turn into Jason, slowly giving my life to the mundane and mechinations as if that one day I will awake and not have anything else but these things that occupy my time... as if thinking itself is a curse. I want more, but I demand less. It's as if somehow, if I don't have anything, I'll have everything. I'm tired of wanting, I'm tired of screaming and begging and pleading for something that could, most likely, not exist.
This is how I am.
I need pills. I need alcohol. I need something, but I can't seem to find it. It's as if everyday, there's a golden ring for me to grab, but once I get it, I realize that it's iron pyrite. I'm sick, I'm stumbling, I'm broken and violent.
And everynight, the memory of that friday comes to mind.
You looked so beautiful as you tried to keep me alive.
Some nights, I wish I'd died.
"This isn't you."
--Avarice
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| to my love |
| 06.22.04 (7:45 pm) [edit] |
Let's just throw this out into the open.
Shadow, I love you. I do. I don't have to be drunk or hide behind text, but it seems like everytime I'm want to tell you (and I think that you are ready for it too), something happens. Always.
I know you know already. Why does it feel like you don't want to hear it?I know you picked up and the subtle (and not so subtle) hints in my lyrics, my tone of voice, my demeanor... and I can't forget the night I came to you and explained everything, knowing that it wouldn't work with me leaving.
This isn't the point, though I'm not even sure there was one to begin with. I am 3,500 miles away from you, near my eldest friends and family, and it's almost the coolest holiday of the year... and all I can think of is how much I can't wait for October to come.
I miss you so. I hope the sun will guide you home.
[i]--one of these days--
she said "darling, i need you"
i said "i don't want to hear it
that's just the way that love goes
she said "baby, did you really
really think you had a choice"
oh no. i never had the chance
but one of these days
she's gonna find a better lover
and one of these days
she's gonna feel real real
and everything will be alright
well i did not know
no, that he'd been drinking
or i would have never showed
and there's a punch that
could have knocked God to His knees
yeah, i never had a chance
but one of these days
he's gonna find another lover
yeah, one of these days
he's gonna realize what is real
and everything will be alright
i said "darling, i love you"
and she pretended she did not hear
i guess that's the way that love goes
and i said "baby did you really
ever think i had a choice?"
i guess that shows what i know
one of these days
i'm gonna find another love
one of these days
i'm gonna feel real real big
and everything will be alright
when i'm trying to sleep at night
yeah
everything will be alright.[/i]
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| Lost in Translation |
| 06.15.04 (5:31 pm) [edit] |
I must have missed the fine text in this. Perhaps there was none, but it was to be assumed that I knew and agreed to the terms and conditions.
I pay $290 + heat and utils + $50 cable bill (which I shoulder myself) for no say in any query or conflict. I'm sick of this shit.
I'm going to go do something stupid.
--Avarice
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| Now that it's gone, it's like it wasn't there at all |
| 06.13.04 (2:04 am) [edit] |
I'm late.
I have to apologize for the week without writing. I'm very sorry to those of you who keep up and read this. It's been a difficult week for me to deal with, but that's just an excuse.
I've sat in front of my computer every night for the last week, thinking about what I should talk about. I have a lot I could say.
But none of it matters.
Let's talk about love. I can deal with that topic.
Love is a horrible thing. Everyone says, "Oh, it's so great to love and be loved in return," and maybe that's true (I'm not placing my money on it, but it could be), but that isn't always the case.
My old man always said that love chose you, not the other way around. Whenever I think about that, I think of that silly little exibitionist angel with his comical bow and arrow. He shoots you with an arrow tipped with a heart, and voila! You are now in love. That is the most unfortunate news I've heard. Ever.
I do believe this to hold true, if for no other relationship than that of my mother and father. My dad is the chillest man you may meet: he's easy going, honest and realistic. He'll never ask you to do anything he wouldn't do himself. He's great. Then, there's my mother. Let's just say that she aquires her funds from less than legal operations. These two have nothing in common, and argue nearly constantly; my dad worried that she's going to get hurt and my mother angry that he's "trying to be her parent". Yet, he's desparately in love with her. He's tried to leave. He's going to die with her.
I wish I wasn't in love. I did my best tonight to convince myself that I'm not: I drove four and a half hours to hang out with a woman that I hardly knew who expressed an intrest in me. I wanted something to happen so badly, that when nothing did, I wanted to resort to the bitter comfort of inebreation.
I didn't of course. I never do.
--Avarice
[i]Simply Because
Can you guess
Why I haven't called you back?
I said I was screening calls
Even your calls
Why am I
Such a bad guy?
I'm just doing other things
Like you do other things
I could never really love you
Simply because, simply because
I could never really love you
Simply because of the trust
Of the trust
You're up all night
"Fixing your hair"
But you're not satisfied
That I'm satisfied
But I'm doing other things
Like I said before
I'm not partying
I've parted from the non-creative
I could never really love you
Simply because, simply because
I could never really love you
Simply because, simply because
I could never really love you
Simply because, simply because
I could never really love you
Simply because of the trust
Of the trust
You've got my love
Yeah
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| She said, "I've got to be honest..." |
| 06.06.04 (2:03 am) [edit] |
I feel like I've misplaced something really important. I know what this stems from, and it's really difficult to explain.
I've been horribly depressed the last couple of days. I'm wondering what's really important anymore. My friends change with the wind, my views and beliefs tending to be the incorrect shape to fit with their perfectly shaped lives. I cause thought and reason to cause tension with blind faith. I cause spiritual chaos. I don't do it intentionally, it just happens. A religion coversation starts innocently enough, but it ends with scorned looks and hurt feelings. It's kinda funny that I always give them the option to back out before the damage is done. "I don't like to talk about religion," has become sort of my catch phrase, the warning label on the pack of cigarettes. "You can get out now," it means, "because someone isn't going to like what I have to say."
They never listen. They still push and prod like the ever curious cat. Feelings always get hurt, and I get the handles of liar, blasphemer, and heretic. Whatever. You should have read the warning label. Now you have lung cancer, and you're blaming the smokes.
At anyrate, there was that. I lost two close friends in a "My God says I can't associate with you" type of conflict, and I'm left wondering if I'm clinically insane, thinking that I'm doing a good honest thing as I'm standing over a bloody victim. Things just don't seem right.
Then I got a job. Everyone say "w00t w00t". I make insane money with insane hours. I would be mostly comfortable without the kick in from the government, but with it, I'm nearly a rich motha. As happy as this may be, I'm worried that the "insane hours" part of that will end up driving me crazy, or make me even more anti-social.
Leezard opted to not move up to northern Oregon this summer which threw a lot of plans for a loop. This man was to be the bassist to end all bassists. There was never a time when I didn't refer to him as "my bassist", let alone "my best friend" or "producer" or "the man with the most insanely creative mind I've ever met". I'm going to miss kickin' it with him.
Right now, my killer guitarists are downstairs writing material as I do my best to finish this and sleep. I always knew Matt was a killer guitarist and creative to boot, but when you put him with another [i]skilled[/i] guitarist, it's mind boggling. I took some videos of him recording some music. I'll post them sometime. This is, of course, a really exciting high point. I wish I could be as enthusiastic as I want to be. The cards don't feel like they are stacking up like they seem. I feel like I've misplaced something.
And on top of all this, I'm lonely. Dave Navarro (of Jane's Addiction) once said, "I'm too sensitive. I always end up falling in love... and the next morning I'd end up feeling used." I've got the same problem, it seems. I fall in love, but it's not shared, so I end up feeling angry or used.
Oh well.
--Avarice
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