2002-02-17
'and that was pieces of myself trying to make it all last, squeezing all the life out of my love until it's past" Tom Waits. new obsession Tom Waits spoken word Jack's last night. was good. was real good. why do people hang themselves from trees in suburbia? Thats an awful way to make someones mum value their only son in years to come. and why do boys tell the best ghost stories and scare you real good by sneaking up on your druken limp body?
"How I don't know what I should do with my hands when I talk to you, how you don't know where you should look, so you look at my hands" good times. and the boy that reminds me of shaun was there. the one that speaks slower than slow but is smarter than smart and lives in the moutains near my aunt. turns out my cousin was his high school english teacher. turns out he hates her too. turns out we probably spent most of one summer together watching the men work the bar at the greyhound track in the mountains, facinated by the rabbit that goes so fast and the men that adore them so. what a strange little country town Brisbane is.
my city's still breathing (but barely it's true)
through buildings gone missing like teeth.
the sidewalks are watching me think about you,
all sparkled with broken glass.
i'm back with scars to show.
back with the streets i know.
they never take me anywhere but here.
those stains in the carpet,
this drink in my hand,
these strangers whose faces i know.
we meet here for our dress-rehearsal to say
"i wanted it this way"
and wait for the year to drown.
spring forward, fall back down.
i'm trying not to wonder where you are.
all this time lingers, undefined.
someone choose who's left and who's leaving.
memory will rest and erode into lists
of all that you gave me:
some matches, a blanket, this pain in my chest,
the best parts of lonely,
duct-tape and soldered wires,
new words for old desires,
and every birthday card i threw away.
i wait in 4/4 time
count yellow highway lines
that your relying on to lead you home. - The Weakerthans
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