you got me feeling caught up
arghhhhhhhhhhhhhh... so when you call, i can be casual about things. when we're together, i can play it cool. when we're kissing, i'm happy with just that. and then i go home and it all comes crashing down. you don't call when i expect you to. all of a sudden my feelings become glaringly clear. what i want becomes so much more visible when i'm not getting it. i realize what you're giving isn't enough. its driving me crazy. you give me a little and i pretend to be satisfied... and secretly i want more. what is this game!? i hate it i hate it i hate it. why did i want love/lust/boys again? its all stress and waiting by the phone and confused, achy stomachs. its not caring when i'm with him and then dying when he doesn't call. its confused and fucked up. its not being sure whether i care or not. i feel like i'm handling things well... and then he doesn't call.

i like when he likes me. i'm good when he likes me. and as soon as he might not anymore... i lose it. even though i'm not even sure how i feel about him. is it sad that my feelings towards him really do depend on how he feels towards me? maybe i can't figure out how i feel until he tells me exactly how he feels.

how many one night stands can we have? why do you keep calling me and inviting me over? if you just wanted to sleep with me... well, we've done that. so what now? is there a reason, a real reason, that you keep wanting to see me?

if i ask you, will you disappoint me?

i need to let you go.

more mashed up song lyrics...
it seems that no matter how many songs i hear... no matter how many words i read... no one gets the feeling just right. no song can explain what i'm feeling. so i keep taking pieces of each song. making a picture. a contradicting one at that. of what i feel of what i want of what you're like. and its all a contradiction. its different each day. i think the crush is fading though. i think we've played out our parts... i think this is all it was supposed to be. for it to be something else... we'd both have to be different right now. and neither one of us is. i'm not certain enough with you... to let myself be vulnerable. you've put up the same walls. so maybe its time to just move on. leave it as the mutual crush it was... and accept that maybe thats all it will be.

i know i'm alone if i'm with or without you
but just being around you offers me another form of relief...

'cause you're just damage control
for a walking corpse like me - like you...

there's a pretty young thing in front of you
and she's real pretty and she's real into you
and then she's sleeping inside of you
and the talking leads to touching
and the touching leads to sex
and then there is no mystery left

and it's bad news
i don't blame you
i do the same thing
i get lonely too...

and its bad news.
- rilo kiley, portions for foxes

these three things
1. you told your younger brother that he couldn't crash at your place last night because i was there. but when he throws rocks at your window at 4am, you get out of bed and let him in.
2. you've seen spiderman 2 twelve times. and you want to be spiderman.
3. no matter how many times you might turn your back on me to get more comfortable during the night... you still reach for me in the morning.

mashed up song lyrics
here's a gomez song... i played cut and paste with the lyrics... they mean more to me this way right now.

hello, hello, i'm glad to see you
now i'll only stop to say goodbye...

'cause i got something to prove to you tonight...

you know, you know i want to please you
and now's the time to let me try
will you, will you do as I do?

and YOU... what is up with you. you gave me something to wonder about as i was falling asleep last night.

homeward bound
i can't tell you how nice it is to have plans and people waiting for me in toronto. it makes me feel loved like you wouldn't believe. and i need a break. from what? i'm not quite sure. possibly everything. probably myself. remind me who i am.

i hope this week delivers.

i can't wait to breathe.

i fought in a war
and i left my friends behind me
to go looking for the enemy
and it wasn't very far
before i would stand
with another boy infront of me
and a corpse that just fell into me
with the bullets flying 'round

and i reminded myself of the words you said...
(- belle and sebastian, i fought in a war)

and the bullets are flying. i'm not sure whether to fire or to lay down in the pit and let my feet rot from gangrene. i remember i had a friend who once thought she had caught gangrene. but she isn't around anymore. at least not for me. but it is like a war. and that song, that moment that gets created. the stand-off. face to face with the enemy boy. and its hard to think of you as anything but an enemy sometimes. and maybe you, yea you over in england, were right. maybe its not always a war like i pretend. maybe there is no upper hand or lower hand or power struggle. but i can't help but conceiving of it as such. and i really want to believe you. you don't know how badly. but i'm afraid. afraid of being hurt. afraid of seeming stupid... to who? i don't know. so i attempt to play these war games... the ones i am horrible at.

and all i really want is that moment. where we can take off our helmets, put down our guns... and look at each other in the eye. really look. and realize that we might just want the same thing. and if we don't, then i can just shoot you and get on with things.

are you afraid of being alone?
you can compliment me on the style of my hair
give me marks out of ten for the clothes that i wear
you probably thought i had more upstairs
i disappoint you...

well i think separation is ok...
you're no star to guide me anyway
you only wanted me to play... a fool...
play by your rules.
- camera obscura, books written for girls

mis-shapes
oh we weren't supposed to be
we learnt too much at school now we can't help but see
that the future that you've got mapped out
is nothing much to shout about.

i heart me the pulp. so sexy.

this is my 21st birthday resolution: live this next year in a manner that would make pulp a fitting soundtrack to my life. i want to believe that if someone were to ever make a movie about my life at 21, they would use pulp as the soundtrack. 21... the year of pulp.

not the balding one.

dammit. i just re-read my last post and realized that it sounded as if i was making eyes with the balding weirdo. the guy that was accused of loving me was not balding. i swear. he looked like a nice guy. ok thats it.

everyone should listen to the clash right now.
so here's two stories. i think there is a parallel here, maybe you can help me figure it out. or at least make sense of it.

situation #1
after waiting for the bus for too long, i decide to pop into the convenience store conveniently behind me. clearly this is a bad idea as i come out with a box of cookies. stress + a box of cookies = my prediction that the cookies will be gone by the end of the night. but all of this is really besides the point. so the bus is really crowded and i am in a very strange mood. i am captivated by the man right infront of me who is balding yet has the hands of my 23 year old ex-boyfriend. i can't figure it out. so i blankly scan the rest of the bus and end up staring at this one guy (not the balding one) for far too long before i realized that i was being rude. by the ebb and flow of the bus people, he ends up behind me with his friend practically molesting my side. she is rambling about how if she had to choose to lose her sight or her hearing she'd have to lose her sight because "music has been the one thing that has gotten her out of some bad times." it is about here that i realize she has noticed my listening. she gives me a couple of sideways glances back and forth between me and her friend. she starts whispering and here i'm thinking "o poo crap. my spying abilities really need some work. foiled again." so i pretend like maybe i am deaf and didn't hear her quazi-intimate conversation. just as i feel as though i'm pulling off the "i have better things to do on the bus than listen to your conversations" look, i realize she isn't whispering about her own sad feelings anymore. she stops whispering and laughs saying to her friend... "you love her." and he replies, "how do you know?" and she says, "i just do." and she looks at me again.

situation #2
so i get off the bus wondering about my lovability when i run into a scary bumish man. i make the mistake of looking at him. clearly, he takes this as an invitation to tell me in french how pretty i am and ask me something i didn't quite understand. my blank stare and cold demeanour was obviously an invitation for him to follow me home for half a block. scary, because i only live a block away from the bus stop.

conclusion - the smile that the bus encounter put on my face was immediately erased by my stalker friend. and all i could think was... life really has a special way of keeping you in line.

being rewarded.
the weather is amazing. the streets are bustling. duluth is a playground. there were groups of people on patios. someone had their car parked with the windows all down and music blaring. kids drinking on porches. girls leaning out windows. it was like a really good movie. the ones you watch and wish you were in. so i looked up at the sun and paid my regards.

no concerns about the world getting warmer
people thought they were just being rewarded
for treating others as they'd like to be treated
for obeying stop signs and curing diseases
for mailing letters with the address of the sender
now we can swim any day in november
- the postal service, sleeping in

i dreamed about killing you again last night
its sunny and i'd like to pretend its about 25 degrees outside. its not. but it could be. i could put on a skirt and pretend that its summer. i could forget that i have a million things that require my immediate attention.

i'm trying to read through an incredible amount of literature on cindy sherman. i'm searching for a thesis... for something new to say... i'm wondering how she feels about being discussed at such lengths by so many people. i think she hates it. i think she hates what most people write about her. i want to write something she'll like. hell, maybe i'd just like to write something i like.

our dinner party last night was fantastic. everyone dressed up in suits and dresses and i felt like we were 38. the babysitters were at home with the spoiled brats and we were drinking wine and smoking pot. we even had fondue for dessert.

as the guests slowly departed, we were left with mounds of dishes and a bit of a wine buzz. so of course... we settled down with tea and season 2 of seinfeld... i was so content.

to our autumn years.

there's feeling entitled
and there's being denied
and there's a tiny january in your hot august nights
let's make ammends for mistaking
the worst is yet to come
from all these misunderstandings

when i miss someone.
that's all i know.
that i miss someone.
it's all i know.
that i miss someone.
- ill lit, springchicken

eventually she realizes
tightrope walker she becomes
careful not to shake the pins loose
steady she steps with her arms out balancing...

...balancing...


...balancing...

- midnight movies, blue babies

need to get some
i don't know why i bother trying to sleep before 3. it just doesn't come. i lie there and lie there... and plan the world in my head. i can't get my sleep on. no matter how tired i am... i didn't even have a nap today. and i have to wake up semi-early tomorrow. but my body doesn't care. its giving me a big fuck you.

so i will listen to angry music and plot your demise.