more lyrics without music

this sprang into my head while blasting cat power in my headphones and walking to school yesterday.

well I talked to the devil and he lied to me
said that love would set me free
and pull me down to the burning sea
but instead it just purified my disease.

your face, you eyes, your lips, your skull, your bones
you cast my eyes away from me
you took my heart where no one goes
you said it wasn't all that bad
it's so bad but no one even knows
carry me half way down
cause it's the only place I want to know
no more milk white smile and crystal clothes
with crystal teeth and my eyes uncomposed
and clean floors of polished pearl, white luck, sit down, shut up
I want to feel concrete between my toes
I want the radiant solitary cry
but all I see my love just grows
keep away from me my love just grows

I saw the devil and he lied to me
said that love would set me free
and drag me down to the burning sea
but instead I find everything to be clean
instead I'm floating up and I will curse you
said devil pull me down I'd rather burn
said god please shake this love from me
this isn't what you said it'd be
it isn't what you said it'd be.


new song fragment

i actually wrote this the first time over the summer and have recomposed it several times, but this is the current version.

'shelter is not a sensation'
she said.
'at least not one you can plug
in the back of your head'

'I don't want warmth'
she said.
'I don't want food
I want to starve
to suffocate
I don't want water
I don't want sleep
I don't want sex
I don't want sex
I don't want to breath
I don't want it true'

I don't know what to do with you

new song lyrics

I guess she didn't
didn't know what to say
to end it

her eyes were red
torn knee, wet hands,
bad dreams, always

I told her to be strong
told her to satisfy
what she had inside
tucked in backup files
tucked away for rainy days
that never came

they say on the news
-he used to say thouse eyes looking out at you-
the tide has risen
it's contense looking for new food

the surf now hits the sidewalk
polished to new life
It's going out here

so heres to this breath
heres to our eventual pain
heres to the sun thats going out
and to the endless pouring rain
you always thought that it was always just the same
but it'll never be that way again

and when it comes
I'll be gone
one thing I know
that I won't be there beside you
I'm not gonna be there beside you
we always said
that we were gonna die alnoe
but god we didn't even know


Modern Leper

...I never expected for it to be this late. i haven't anticipated. And it's weird, because I know how much this is a generic thought. You've never been as old as you are now, and this is always true at every moment and so is not very novel. But I feel lost, I feel like I have no direction because I never really wanted a direction past this. I never wanted to be older than I am now. I am twenty years old. I remember writing on this blog on my eighteenth birthday, telling you that I didn't know how I feel about it. That I'd let you know. Well I feel like shit. I feel like shit about being over eighteen. I feel like shit about being over twenty.

The last time I felt this I was eighteen, the day leading up to my departure back to new york and to college. And the problem is, so little has changed since then. My dreams are the same, my ambitions. I've accomplished very little more artisticly. My friends are the same. So little has resolved. So little has gotten better, or, really, worse except for the fact that it's two years later. The same people read this blog that did when I posted my eighteenth birthday message (or less, do Parker and Jackie and Diana still read this? Does Simka?) So little has changed.

And I don't want to go forward. I want to stand here like a child. I want to go out like a baby. A child throwing a tantrum. I don't want to move forward. I want to lay down and pound my fists on the ground and cry.

There are times when you know nothing is going to make it better. Were I actually a child there could possibly be someone to pick me up and hold me and bring me steemed milk with cinnemon and tell me things would be fine and mean it completely. And I would feel better perhaps. I don't know. But that would just make me feel like shit now. I don't have love and before now i've always just looked at myself as the antagonist in that situation. To be viewed as creul by how much I hurt other people through not having love. And I forget that probably at the center I am the one hurt. I am the victum. Because no one can tell me it will be alright. I don't trust anyone when they say that. I don't trust anyone. I don't love anyone.

Nothing is going to make this better. but perhaps tomorrow or I will be able to think about other things instead. This is what I hope for.

Sometimes it bothers me to think about these writings about my faith in love. And my beliefe in love. I'm afraid I'm being silly. You read a lot of old writers and philosophers and romantics writings from before the wars and they talk about god. And their loosing faith. and how if there is no god, and they fear there isn't, than there is nothing. If they have no belief than how are they supposed to go on living? And I want to tell them, no! you don't need it! you don't need god, or belief. you can live without fine. you just don't think so because you're unacustomed to the idea, you put to much stock in faith in god.

And I fear that some young intellectual sixty years from now will look at me and my generation and say "no! you don't need to believe in true love! It's silly, and you can live without it fine!" I worry. but until then I fear I need someone to come along to fall in love with.

well i am ill but i'm not dead


Poor Places

Let me explain myself here.

it probably won't be that good of an explaination.

I know what I'm doing is wrong, I know it's stupid. I know it will end poorly. I know that I don't know what I want, and I know right now it just looks like I want what I can't have. I know I'm insatiable, almost as a rule. I know I'm too self aware to be this self-destructive. I know I'm too premeditated to be this impulsive. I don't care.

I'm starting to think that in love it doesn't pay to be responsible. It doesn't pay to be strong and to stoic and responsible. Whats "right" is not what's right. And I don't see how me sitting down and being lonely and waitng for it to pass is going to make for a better result than me trying to fuck everything up. This way seems better.

And besides, I can never be impulsive. I have never been impulsive. I think about things too much and there's nothing I can do about that.


Broken Home, Broken Heart

I have, I think, sympathy till the end of the earth. I did. at least I did. the other day I was walking with Ulysses and he was telling me about a friend who has died. or not a friend but a girl in his studio, who he knew, a kind aquantance, viewd highly. she was dead. and hes shaken. and he wanted to come to brooklyn to be with people who didn't know her and didn't know what happened. to have a good time and a fun time and not think about it for a little bit and be at peace. and we're walking around the block and hes telling me this. and I don't care. I don't feel sympathetic. and thats fucked up. and I mean he didn't really know her. and then he was talking about his aunt who died when he was seven. the only other major death in his life.

and I am empathetic. I am. I want very much to feel for him. this is a major loss to the guy. the biggest he's ever had. and someone our age. and it does remind that it's possible. we are not invincible. one thing and then you're dead and thats it. that's it.

but all I'm thinking is how cheesey everything he's saying is. and all I'm thinking is how horrible I am for thinking this. and how detached I have become. I really want to care but I don't care. I used to care even when I didn't want to.

and maybe it's because it's so minor. maybe it's because I wanted to shake him and say You want an epifany? Than Have The Fucking Guts To Have An Epiphany Before An Excuse Like Your Friend Dying Comes Along. maybe because I wanted to tell him I didn't give a fuck about his aunt dying, and some girl he kinda sorta knew. My dad is dead I wanted to tell him. My dad is dead for ten years. For half my life. this goddamn month. I don't know the day. I hate that I don't know the day. it could be today. it could be ten years today my dad is fucking dead. I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself my dad is dead.

but really I wanted to have sympathy. for my ailing friend I wanted to have honest sympathy. I think he knew it wasn't honest. I used to have sympathy. I didn't mention my dad at all. that would be rude pulling of focus. I hate when people do that.

cry yourself to sleep at night


I Walked

remember middle school? When we all realized how awful the pack system was? When individuality was the biggest goal, to swim upstream, to be true to yourself. when not caring about what anyone thought was the ultimate goal? and everyone else was against us. And suddenly we go to art school and film school and when all the people who always thought this are together we all become little socialists. we become so concerned with relating to other people, with avoiding pretentiousness and being down to earth and on level with the masses. So fuck it. If this is pretentiousness than I am pretentious. Because I like what I like and don't like what I don't like. Because I don't take how manny people like something into account. I still hate the structure of social interactions, the politics, the game. I still hate people as much as ever. I know I can't relate to anyone anymore. I can't find anyway to relate to anyone anymore. I still just want to be myself. and unfortunately I am still an outsider for it. and don't ever be mistaken, there is nothing glamourous or cool or fun about being an outsider.

that it's me, it's my fault



on running.

I'm trying to explain to her that I don't look down on people with tastes other than mine, that I almost admire them. that who am I to think less of someone because they like to be entertained by their entertainment? that they like their films and music to work with their life not for their life to work for their music and films and books. that they like to have fun and not worry about anything other than the mass of things they already have to worry about. How can I think less of them?

its just -

I am not them. did I used to want to be them? maybe briefly. middle school was hard you know. I still envey them. but I like my life. I like how I live. theres nothing wrong with it. I am not going to try to be them.

and its just -

if I seem begrudged its because there is only one of me and many of them. and because I came to new york and to art school to try to find more people like me. because traditionally thats where you went to find them. and shit its cool that art school is no longer full of pretentious pricks I guess but - - Where do I look now? whats my next option? there are no artists in the art scene. there are no artists in the underground music scene. there are no artists in the film scene. the art scene resents artists. independant music and independant film now resents artists. where am I suppossed to look?

I walk into a fruit store and the halls are filled with vegtables. I look dissatisfied. The clerk scoffs at me, angry, righteous. What, do I have a problem with vegitabels? What the fuck is wrong with me? Why is it that I find fruit so supirior?

No, i wave my arms in the air trying to explain. No! I love vegtables! They are amazing! without them all my favorite food would be gone! Its just - I was looking for fruit right now! I haven't had any in a while! And if the fruit store no longer sells any than where am I supposed to go? Where am I supposed to look! Will I never taste fruit again!

not that she believes me. or cares. keep running.

at least you know that's what i'm good at