wait, johnny marr is in fucking modest mouse?

mayday mayday. there has been a fire in the engine room. failure lights are up everywhere.
me and you just like always.
lit like leading actors. bright lights hitting your cheekbones in an otherwise darkened room.
this is disaster.
you smoke that last one down until it burns your fingers.
there is a penny spinning the table and twenty dollars broken like everything else in here.
basement apartments feel like funeral homes sometimes.
took the train just like the old days.
my old days that is. the good old days.
the stops are of comfort to me as they count me down.
when it flips from red to purple i know im getting close.
drove home from the train today. sweating out a hoody in august just like the good days.
scary.
i am anonymous to the cars as i drive back to the house i grew up in, cutting down the same streets ive ridden down for almost 20 years- slowing only when i see the house a block before mine, that signifies my victory lap.
i run up the stairs and throw myself on the bed.
i can only think of before this began and after it ends.
my last year.
i cant ever get my head around right now.
"red red wine" is playing on the radio.
i saw a good band last night and thought of good friends-
i only wish i would let my head go to these places more.
im getting sick of saying im sorry.
"i hate you, but have a good night."

adventure is in your head. the capacity for it, that is.

some people drink too much
talk too much
think too much
smile too much
ive got em all beat
crickets- but not in this city
and certainly not jiminy
its glowing with the heat of lightbulbs going off overheads
been staying up straight for the last week due to 6am flights and ideas
tommorrow is no different
wrote a long piece that hazily remembered tears going from left eye into right.. sideways on a tile floor
and another full of expectations and demands....
sitting here unhindered by spellcheck or sentence structure
i am not of the head to press the submit button on either of these
they are derivitive and self indulgent-
not interested in championing misery, at least right now
instead i was thinking of how there is a spark of something great inside of almost every single person i have met in my entire life and that maybe it should be our task to blow on it and guard it, feed it ideas as dry wood- watch it burn.
instead of blowing it out.
easier said than done...
goodnight moon.
goodnight loves.
i hope to be back to my same miserable self in the morning. until then spark and travel safely in your head.

dear man in the mirror: get over yourself.

if the opposite is true than of course
bad things happen to good people
of this i am convinced
love only has legs
so it can runaway
damn the chesire cats and white rabbits all to hell
reading keuroac across the country is something everyone should do
its funny that a confidence man inspires just the opposite
cresting on waves
i wait for my dreams to break on the sand
breathing white cities off the map into your nose
there is mint in the japanese eye drops im using.
they feel like little piece of glass at war with my pupils.
but they bleach my eyes white even sleep couldnt save me.
i feel like the santa maria-
third in line of discovery
i want to find a new world with you in hand
i cant wait to make it back
i have chemicals to erase my old troubles and welcome new ones with open arms
finding the right formulas, adding and subtracting myself from myself
i am dreaming of the walrus and mysteries
and you cause you never know: just kick rocks, kid.

i had a spark that just wouldnt start
youll find asleep in the lobby of an airport somewhere
waiting for delays to begin or end
waiting to fly forward or back in time, only away from now
excuse me but this starts/stops and jumps from the limits of the pen
i cant fit all my thoughts onto the back of this dirty american airlines ticket
summer is when i still feel the most free
was reading of the late sixties, of dylan and a golden era
made me want this so much more
so glad i have three genuine people in my life no matter the first weeks or flashes

crush on me like new love or a drug

sic transit itum

Theres an opposite to deja vu. They call it jamais vu. Its when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first time. Everybody is s stranger. Nothing is ever familiar.

This isn't learning from my mistakes anymore so much as it is damage control. I might as well be trying to paint a house that's on fire.

my conscious and i can out-talk david mamet

life as of late: "usually i like to get kissed before i feel fucked".

i place my bets on stars that are probably already burned out.

i fistfight the keyboard when i think of how things turned out.

bury me now, we'll figure out the rest later.

me versus myself.
i know that at some point the right words are gonna come to me.
that they are just going to spill out.
thats the only reason i still sit in these darkened rooms in front of blank screens.
i know deep down we can make ourselves bright.
we can shine.

my moods shape shift, they are magnets on a compass.
leaving the arrow spinning if it gets too close.
i hadnt been smiling or speaking up as much as i used to.
i have felt ugly on the inside and no matter what anyone says or does its the only thing going in my ears.
except whats the point.
whats the point of making it through unscathed?
the whole point of this is catharsis.
the whole plan is to get better.
to do the math.
to figure this all out.
to be ok.
to be ok with being ok.

us vs. the house - i kind of love the odds.

its almost a new shade under those lashes.
i am perplexingly optimistic.
its almost got me losing my head.
dodging flights.
words are like teeth.
only three places they can go...
flashed in smiles, rotted out, or spit out in fistfights.
not too sure how these end up.
we are becoming who we are meant to be.
we are becoming who we were.
time passes like bottles between them.
letting my self just float.
just feel ok.
being happy doesnt mean you are unauthentic.
breathing life is alright.
in doses you know.
i love life in 24 hour increments.
noone gets how my head feels when i lie sideways on pillows.
but noone gets anyone. so who cares?

listening to life on mars by bowie.
just snoozin.

the inside of my head is out breath from all of this jumping here and there.
sometimes love is the only thing we can call our own.

"ive been shooting up your perfume..."

S.orry's A.nd N.o's T.end to I.nfuriate

i am happy that you realize love still exists.
it is dark and needs to be dusted off.
maybe i am only happy in this realization in the early a.m.s in the light of this computer screen.
maybe i am not happy at all.
im not even too sure myself at times.
why would i ever want my moods to be stabilized.
sometimes you have to break a heart to unbreak your own.
i bleieve in falling in love midsleep.
i believe in dreaming about you every chance i get.
and yeah november spawned a monster, but so did whatever month were in right now.
cursing leap years cos without them ill be done sooner.
if i had a penny to my name id throw it down a wishing well.
im best when im making things worse.
lets go out tonight and make some bad decisions.
i miss old friends. truly.
but actually they are still here, i just stopped taking notice
you got my voicemail
"leave a message im out..."
having the time of my life.
love.

if you get the chance to put the pieces back together tonight, ill be waiting at the other end of this phone

toast to noone. who cares. i dont care what they say about this. it is magic- not smoke and mirrors. it is real. every drop of sweat and every milemarker. remember me, or i hope you dont. i scream out my window at this sleeping city. my throat hurts and my hair smells like smoke. do you ever get the feeling that your insides and your outsides dont really go together?
----------------------------------
oh yeah im sorry for almost breaking your toe
and my heart
and that promise
and your dream
----------------------------------
the only thing i am sure of is- however you think of me is wrong.

we'll tell sincere lies all night long

this is all neither here nor there, i dont know why i try to convince you of what you already know, even if its something you barely and reluctantly admit. it's still true and you still know it, however you like to justify it.

Sometimes i wonder if you justify it in your head the same way you justify it with your mouth.

you are the wonder that keeps the stars apart (tidbits written on napkins and found in pockets over the last year).

weakends and springbrakes: in this town the hometeam mascot is the shapeshifter. you can take your president and your wars out in the desert. i am content with my kings and queens in nevada.

everyone is an open wounds. everywhere is a masquerade.

lets split this life- dont think i can take a whole one on my own. the inside of my head is a time machine. and it only goes to the past. always making different choices. taking chances/not taking chances. late night blurs vs. the clarity of morning light. never too sure who is gonna show up or whos gonna call in sick- i wouldnt trust your love farther than i could throw it. there are people asleep in my house right now but none of them are you.

dear collector,
why must i be a spade or a diamond. i just want to be kept in your hand and bet on in dark rooms. i want to be a heart. i dont want to fold. my insides beat through the air.- i am in a dark room off a bright yellow hallway. how many times can i sing along to the same song. you are plymouth rock. you are the 4 minute mile.

been raising hell but now that its grown up and moved out. i dont know what to do with myself.

new years. every single one is worse than the last. like a parade of dreams breaking and marching out of my life, trampling one another. she is the wonder that keeps the stars apart. i cant breathe when i step into the shower, i tasted the blood off of the walls. sat on the ledge and watched the water bounce off of the tiles until it turned cold. goosebumps on my skin are tiny armies of hope fighting in my heart. she thinks there is nothing between us but air. that maybe we are just insects crashing on this big rock spinning through the galaxy. i am losing my nerve.

not sure how much time ive wasted. one day i just stopped keeping track.

"you think i am the devil. but only because i have lived in hell. i want to get out".

the truth is even if im shining, im just old light beamed out ages ago.

i have been typecast.
a square peg forever trying to squeeze into round holes.
sometimes I drink to forget,
but mostly i write so i never will.
cursed myself down and out for all time.
i am always leaving you high and dry.
i am always leaving you out in the cold.
because i am regular.
minus all of this.
dont try and argue with manics.
its not worth your breath.
something about this year has got me crawling back inside my shell.
its ok to breakdown.
its ok to get out of your mind.
dont sleep or eat for days on end- im forgetful when it comes to comfort and consistency. sometimes i am just letting you shine.
even with all the greens and honey in these eyes.
growing up became growing old.
ive learned to keep myself quiet.
to be a stow away in this life.
to not make waves but sometimes scream and fight over nothing so great at all.
ive been paranoid that friends would kill me,
i know ive thought of killing some of then.
maybe only in my head.
"You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first
Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads
But they're just old light, they're just old light"
the sun is coming up.
the truth about lonliness is youre only as good as the company you keep.
everyone is forever saying 'i miss the way things were' and missing old versions of eachother.
were still here. all of us.
brush your finger tips on my eyelids like you did in the glory days.
i promise ill make it back.
you are all too sweet.
and i dont deserve it.
i never did.

there is nothing between us but air

you know the funny thing about the super bowl is that vendors need to be prepared to have t-shirts should either team win after the game. so they make up thousands and thousands of shirts saying both teams won. then whichever team doesnt win they ship those shirts off as donations to third world countries. the strangest part being that you know that someone in these countries that only knows one fact about the united states: that the bears won the 2007 super bowl.
a fact which is ofcourse wrong.
kind of strange.

i actually wanted to see you today. and tommorrow.

just trying to slip through the cracks

watched garden state in the dark tonight. we all create worlds for ourselves so we can forget theirs. ive been working on mine since i was 10.

puppy love vs. teaching old dogs new tricks

im sensing some antidote in the way the world has been speaking to me.
but im all heart with these fingers stuck in my ears-playing scenes from my head so loud that i cant hear whats happened.

"there are plenty of fish in the sea" quip pretty fisherman on boats in stocked lakes and fish farms.
do you think about me when you see the moon in the afternoon?
"shape up or ship out"
im nailed and boarded up in a box addressed to somewhere else.
of all gods jokes, i am the most cruel- i will make you forget your head
and your rules
and your friends
and your faith

we are bricks on gas pedals.
we are the ink on forged checks.
i will make you mine and then forget you.
my head is too crowded for the company.
can we go back to how it was?
before there was a world out the front door that got off on being down.
stockpiled good fortune and am ready to wait out the storm.
i want you in my after 12am veins.
lately it all just feels like looking up through ice in a frozen pond at red cheeked families skating, carefree.
to be honest, even though im nodding off in class rooms-id rather lay my head on a curb somewhere with you than any of the rest of it.
and the universe doesnt care about luck or headlines.
someone whispered "make yourself" in my ear once.
steal me away from all of this.
make yourself.

forgive me for all the times i messed with your pretty head

actually dont.
it doesnt really matter either way.
it all turns out the same.
alphamale. omegalove.
every dog has its day and all.
but i think we slept through ours...
theres no sucess quite like failure. trust me. i can be a character witness.
dodging bars that noone can find and noone can get into. it becomes a parody of itself.

i love borat for bringing the mustache back before mike cardin could.

but the prestige makes me want to pack it all up and move to the 1800's.
id bring back walkmen with sweet yellow headphones and be like the king of the world.

dont burn me out on borat by trying to do the accent: here's a hint- you dont do it very well.


back to diary-ing....

i mean, really, how many times do you need to check your voicemails to realize noone is calling.
put me down or fix me- but more like a cat or dog...
had a dream where i picked orange leaves from blonde hair in moonlight.
and im left forever edning signals back to you in black night.
gotta run these words are terribe at best, ill be back to clean up this mess. i need to go to sleep not to read more,.,. or maybe not.

change comes from our heads, not our pockets

been writing in the real journal lately. paper and ink.
I have to ask myself, howd you get yourself turned so inside out?
this city feels like a lull.
in weather, in love, in time, in life.
'all you sensetive thugs need hugs'.
i can love you in hour increments.
i can give/take all your problems back/away.
i want to be bright enough to blind you.think of all the love i have behind my eyelids waiting for you to wake up.

dream fast. wish hard.

truefuckinglove.

My hands are cold, would you give me your g(love)s?

we accept the love we think we deserve

stay in love, fall in touch

Id rather have cancer than a dishonest heart.
Which isnt being pious. Just practical.
Cancer may cool you, but the others sure to.
Oh, screw it cookie--hand me my guitar and I'll sing you a fado in the most perfect Portugese.


I feel infuriatingly left out--a tugboat in drydock while she, glittery voyager of secure destination, steams down the harbor with whistles whistling and confetti in the air.

Stick around long enough and everyone becomes a parody of themselves (see also: if it could happen to the egyptians it could happen to you).

As Egyptologists cast open tombs they serve as gods like isis welcoming history back to life.
it seems strange to think of the way that the very thing that gives me life, oxygen, tears through these tombs and disintegrates heirlooms that have lain in shadows for thousands of years. youve done this 27 times before, youd think youd get the hang of it by now- a night spent in your room alone realizing how you always change tense mid-thought. If you were at a hotel, youd order room service for two because you don’t want the hotel staff to think you could be this alone. Youre only as old as you feel. Then put a toe tag on me that reads “who cares”. At some point you realize Its all a game of “this” or “that”. now vs. then. "Better off" against "worse for the wear"- you know, id rather be a widow than a divorcee. Maybe that’s just me. I just wanted to feel a part of something. You cant blame me but at the same time you probably should. I sat and stitched this Frankenstein relentlessly but you gave it that final kiss of life. The years are starting to take their toll. The miles show in the form of smile lines around my eyes. Some girls should get fixed like cats. Though I love the way she has memorized a list of canonized books that she tells people are “her favorites”, even though they are pretty much just off of a list of “customers who bought this book also bought” and so on. She watches the history channel and acts like it gives her the license to input “facts” into every phone conversation I ever have. When its late at night she says things like “I feel like im walking on air”, and besides being obvious and derivative I also happen to know its not true. because ive seen the kind of shoes she wears and she always has to take them off if the car is parked too far away. Id hate it but anything sounds okay coming out of her mouth. Youre only still staring because in my mind I am reloading. Or this thing is fucking stuck in the chamber. Stutter. Its on the tip of my tongue. Cant think of a single fucking segue. I wish my ego and my libido would trade places. I wonder how the pharaohs would feel if they realized they never made it across to the other side. They are sitting on the third floor of the natural history museum. Forever. If I die before you I hope they bury you alive with me. In my head that is how I love you.you dont hate me, you hate the part of you that is like me. i cant sit here and ride my flaws until the end. im not sure i am thinking clearly but i just want you to know that i waited on your calls all night- they never came. i just wanted to say i miss you or im sorry or you know something that would have meant something to you. i would have made it poetic and memorable or at least something you could laugh at while drifting off to sleep. always trying to relive the glory days. i dont care how poorly these sentences were constructed or how in the light of day i will wish i had not written them- right now i can only curse the fucking light off of this stupid western city because it wont ever get dark enough for sleep but otherwise how could you guide your way back here?
my head always feels warm right before i pass out, i always worry that there is something wrong and i wont wake up or you know i will. promise me that you wont take anything i ever say too seriously.