mumm-ra: she's got you high

500 days of summer.

stupidstupid love movie thing.

now i am desperately inspired.

set daydreaming to full speed.

set the vast spaces between my ears

and eyes to utter blue and blackness.

bright lights.

violent lashes.

tickticktick my skin from now till then.

my lips and hands.

a grand orchestra of misunderstanding.

out of time but inside the lines.

whatever.

radiohead: let down

are you alone?

i hear you're this sad, sad song.

and what is dying in your eyes

i've been looking for all my life.

pedro the lion: options

odd glances from the 6 sisters dressed in dresses

that just walked into the library with matching jackets.

maybe because i am oddly glancing myself.

i've been moving forwards lately.

onwards and over and through:

as soft pulsings against my hollowness, echo inside me.

i want my eyes. widened. like the ring of a bell.

ears opened like a burned down house.

i am drifting through a wall of sound.

too loud to hear. too quiet too feel.

bleh.

bright eyes: ship in a bottle

i don't like him. honestly.

i really don't. mostly disgusted.

but she does, love him, i suppose.

and this is where the wedge divided.

split. oceaned. transatlanticized.

here, now, in this moment. i let go.

and kindasorta disperse into the scenery.

a tree. a rock. a sidewalk. a driveway.

"losing a whole year"

i triangulate and measure.

three corners, three sides to this instant.

couldshouldwould

havehadwill

i forget. to regret. to be upset.

finally, my faulty memory can be used for something

other than repeated trips back into the house and

locking myself out of my car.

dashboard confessional: the shade of poison trees

i can't write the songs in my mind.

i mean, the concepts are rushing.

beauty. i breathe through the hole it left in me.

oh, my. but to put it to song. to lyric.

i falter. i can't say it. i can't speak it. the honesty.

i want to write something. amazing.

tazlena and i talked friday.

she spent the night, and talked

me to sleep. as always.

thats what i want to write about.

that. there. something. that means everything.

a mild conversation while diamond shards

sweep over and under us. slicing the air

as shimmering seconds.

i want this to stick in my skin.

lodged. scabbed.

to catch my veins and grow old with me.

grow cold with me.

grow small and dull.

beating with hope.

pulsing with discourse.

fading with grace.

a welcomed wound.

broken social scene: shoreline

going to hawaii. as of yesterday. everything makes less sense.

i have an end point. an amazing goal. besides urban outfitter sales clothing

that i order in the mail. this is huge and $750.

but i hope that it will be worth it. so much so.

list of things to bring:

1. camera
2. light flannels
3. the only two pairs of pants i own
4. cut off shorts
5. toiletries
6. sunglasses
7. what little money i have left
8. Arics birthday present
9. ipod & headphones
10. molskine
11. two crew necks 2 v necks
12. a brand new pack of fine ballpoints
13. maybe a pencil
14. my infinite supply of 'maybes'.

copeland: what cannot be found pt. 1

man.

halloween.

i mostly did homework, played cards with my sister

practiced the songs, and then went to the show.

our set was at 1030, which was made bearable

by Beruit and Modest Mouse cover bands.

my voice is almost back to normal. not really.

i hope i can find photos or even a video of us saturday.

copeland slices through my skull.

copeland paints crystals on my fingers.

copeland perferates my shoulders and knees.

copeland is the distance from my soul to my skin.

copeland is just a band.

but nothing is really as clear as my mind right now listening.

noah and the whale: the shape of my heart

the sickness is over. over and completed. i still have throat business going on.

so, singing is almost impossible. which makes me weep in so many ways.

none of them very masculine.

school is progressing well. i think i will pass all my classes.

all of them. for the first time since my very first semester.

though, i only had one class. but still.

i havent been writing lately, just listening to music. and pretending to do homework.

and sowing up old tshirts. and just daydreaming. day.dream.ing.

way too much. about stepping into the pockets made in the air by breaths

and stepping through to a whole other parallel world.

where everything is just as a want it, but a little as i don't.

because nothing could be worse than a perfect world.

nothing. there is no hope. no dreams.

mild discontent keeps me sane.

the ways my life falls short of my expectations

allows my head to spin life into spools of wonder.

i take them out while lying in my room or anywhere comfortable

or sometimes not so comfortable

and unravel/unspool/disperse

until i forget where i am lying and why

and who i am really and why and where

that i has gotten me.

and there is just that beautiful, unattainable contentedness.

tucking my eyes and mouth and ears into wonder.

juana: rio seco

i've been sick. deathly sick.

my days have fallen through the cracks of minutes and seconds and unconsciousness.

an almost everpresent unconsciousness since last Wednesday. ohmy.

recently, my putting of homework pastime has been perusing here:

www.flickr.com/random-panda

i lost my moleskine. my heart aches now even more.

i have filled up 5 in the last 4 years.

maybe an accomplishment possibly.

i hope so. everything feels beautiful right now.

it just snowed last night. lightly. like fiberglass.

it will soon slowly begin to work its way into my hands and face.

burrowing into my bones. where it will sleep and make me slow

and unresponsive and dull and sullen for another 6 months.

maybe.

j'ai de la chance.

The Acorn: Feral Chile

i have been shape shifting.

a lot.

into somewhere else.

space shifting.

**

can i be rocked into sleep

in the roses beneath your feet

can i be sung away to dreams

by the music of your breathing

to fill your breast against my chest

as the mountains break and crest

i won't mind the quaking earth

or the echoes of a crumbling universe

oh

passing afternoon trains

ticking rails hurt my brain

so i crawl under the leaves

or nest amongst your eaves

to listen to your lips

capture me frozen motion clips

as the fingers play the spine

melodies softened by rhyme

i hear them

oh

**

Bright Eyes: Arienette

at the library (prepositional phrase, i know).

someone in my vicinity bathed in marijuana.

bathed. drowned. died in the substance

for a decade, then came back to life

and now walks among us (me), utterly saturated.

eff.

today is nice. gorgeous. torturous.

i rode my bike here. what a wonder.

i hope it stays partially cloudy, 50 degrees and slightly breezy

all winter long.

and in the spirit of impossibility,

i hope manchester orchestra comes to Fairbanks within

the next year.

and i sing Colly Strings with them.

and the end.

Iron & Wine: Sunset Soon Forgotten

i'm in love with a lesbian.

well, not love.

i suppose.

but, yes.

a lesbian.

Joanna Newsom: Peach, Plumb, Pear

i don't want to do anything right now.

i just want to sink into my bed.

softly and slowly. sinking.

sift between the sheets. to silence,

to no one and nothing.

nowhere.

where the wild things are is coming out

next week(?)

it makes me daydream too much.

about stories.

all i know right now is that

i ate too much garlic chicken.

and my insides are coiling snakes.

coiling snakes on fire.

blehh.

neutral milk hotel: two headed boy part 2

all of everything. slipping silently. sipping endlessly.

i think we might cover neutral milk hotel songs for the holloween show.

and we decided on a band name. Young Fangs!!!!

what a coincidince.

anyway.

in order:

1.) king of the carrot flowers pt. 1

2.) Holland 1945

3.) Communists Daughter

of course, they will be altered a little. more electric guitar.

some more drums. less noise. i don't even know

what half the sounds on the record are.

"i'm still wanting my face on your cheek"

still no snow. i want it to start, so i can end.

and then repeat for evers.

for sho.

palomar: he came to stay

i am finding that i dislike people.

not all of them, of course. but a vast majority.

in class, when someone i don't want to listen to speaks,

i discovered my automatic reaction is to cover my ears.

like a ten year old.

growing up is ridiculous. almost as ridiculous as death.

or even denim skirts, trophies, and fat people wearing playboy logos.

or just denim trohpy fat logos!

bedtime.

bon iver: re:stacks

lie down, and seperate my mind into fragments.

who. what. where. when. why.

how.

no greater oceans than those i have yet to cross.

uncalculated distances. unutterable blandness.

just waves and shivers like rivers in veins.