Tuesday, February 18, 2014
S
Stephanie says
That she wants to know
Why she's given half her life,
To people she hates now
That she wants to know
Why she's given half her life,
To people she hates now
-The Velvet Underground
B
She
May be the face I can't forget
The trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
She
May be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day
May be the face I can't forget
The trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
She
May be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day
-Elvis Costello
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Tuesday, November 01, 2011
Pace
On that day we fell out of favor
we lost our rhythm, broke the metronome
that could have been our savior
you walked away while i stayed behind
or was it in opposite directions, memory is unkind.
our love became stencils, outlines with nothing filled in.
empty wishes, hopes and promises filled to the brim.
i still hear whispers of that time we lost
we put down our swords but at what cost
i cross every street to find you there
but you're not really you, and i'm not really here.
i walk in circles to find our familiar pace
but you've gone ahead, running a different race
we should've kept time by counting together
but the beat ran away from us, memory into ether.
we lost our rhythm, broke the metronome
that could have been our savior
you walked away while i stayed behind
or was it in opposite directions, memory is unkind.
our love became stencils, outlines with nothing filled in.
empty wishes, hopes and promises filled to the brim.
i still hear whispers of that time we lost
we put down our swords but at what cost
i cross every street to find you there
but you're not really you, and i'm not really here.
i walk in circles to find our familiar pace
but you've gone ahead, running a different race
we should've kept time by counting together
but the beat ran away from us, memory into ether.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Monday, September 05, 2011
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Monday, July 04, 2011
hemingway
"What do you think happens to a man going on 62 when he realizes that he can never write the books and stories he promised himself? Or do any of the other things he promised himself in the good days?"
"What does a man care about? staying healther. Working good. Eating and drinking with his friends. Enjoying himself in bed. I haven't any of them. You understand, goddamn it? None of them"
Then he turned on me. I was just like the others, pumping him for information and selling him out to the feds. After that day, I never saw him again.
"What does a man care about? staying healther. Working good. Eating and drinking with his friends. Enjoying himself in bed. I haven't any of them. You understand, goddamn it? None of them"
Then he turned on me. I was just like the others, pumping him for information and selling him out to the feds. After that day, I never saw him again.
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