February 2011
31 posts
January 2011
35 posts
there are times in my life when i can’t help but think real life sometimes has the capability to seep into fantasy, to get lost in its forests and set up camps,
friends with whom you share secrets, shamelessly, so little shame,
weeds that grow into trees much larger than they were intended to grow into, trees so large we could walk right through them, fall through them if pushed.
heyhihello, random question. who are your favorite musical artists?
oh boy, the age-old question.
I have a serious one-sided love affair with Amanda Palmer. Any band, album, song, instrument, measure that she has laid her musical finger on instantly becomes magic to me. She can do no wrong.
Andy Hull and I share the same soul. If my heart could speak, it would sing Manchester Orchestra at the top of its lungs, it would cry through every verse. I have never had such an intense lyrical connection with any other musical artist.
I have a special place in my heart for Flyleaf. They are, by no means, any longer my chosen ‘genre’, but for years and years and years they kissed my wounds and stole my breath, relentlessly, beautifully. Lacey would scream, and my lungs and blood would scream with her, forcing the agony of Mid-Pubescent Angst out of me, if only for a moment or two. No matter what genre I’m into, no matter what beliefs I have, no matter the person I end up becoming, Flyleaf will always have that fundamental hold on me, that untouchable feeling of faith and hope in a dark time.
Also, I love conor oberst & co., florence + the machine, imogen heap, innerpartysystem, the killlaaaahs, modest mouse, mute math, regina regina regina, silversun pickups, jew no, normal stuff that everybody loves because it’s beautiful stuff that can’t be touched.
also, there are times in my life when i can’t deny gaga, britney, or fucking ke$ha. so fucking sue me.
The Answer
Automatic Loveletter
reviving music from high school this evening, hello 16-year-old self.
layin’ in bed watchin’ cartoons instead of fillin’ out my FAFSA.
no fucks.
you’ve got me by the finger, dragging me to places that i admittedly miss, but fear returning to. and i keep waiting for you to turn around and look at me with those eyes and tell me it’ll be okay and all those things we love to hear when we are walking blindly behind something we only half-trust. but your head, it never turns, never faces me, never reassuring.
i’ve got my whole head in this now, you know. my neck is following close behind, and my shoulders and arms are eagerly awaiting to be swallowed, and my stomach screams for a new home. my body pulsates in anticipation to be eaten alive, and frankly there’s not much i can do to stop it, like i can’t stop a fever from shivering.
i am tired now, but not tired enough to sleep. i am realizing more and more each day that that Golden Moment, that summit of fatigue is only reached when i am climbing mountains with you, breathless and cold thousands of feet above the sea.
this semester is going to kick me square in the ass.
i’m mildly terrified.
words to live by,
and it’s funny how i imagined that i could win this winless fight
but maybe it isn’t all that funny that i’ve been fighting all my life
but maybe i have to think it’s funny if i want to live before i die
and maybe it’s funniest of all to think that i’ll die before i actually see
that i am exactly the person that i want to be.
fuck yes.
i am exactly the person that i want to be.
we are strangled when we touch each other’s cheeks, electrified and choking, crawling toward each other on the ground like we were climbing mountains, desperate and clawing toward the summit. we reached each other finally and erupted into a blaze of twenty-minute lovers, showering on the pavement and doing something closely resembling shattering, breaking into millions.
so what are we now?
Back in Chicago, first thing that is brought to my attention: internet is down.
Like, really?
