Thursday, December 31, 2009

They'll wake up today to the papers that say, "Oh well. He was swerving, they were swerving, much too late."

Mary by Noah And The Whale

Oh the cold wet wind blew over the heather
You wrote Charlie and Mary for forever
On the back of a rock
That you picked up on the way
And in that perfect moment
I nearly ruined it
By saying I love you
And nearly meaning it
But you know I would never waste those words
Oh when I last saw Mary
She lied and said it was her birthday
Oh when I last saw Mary
She lied and said it was her birthday

But then she
Tried to kiss me
And I said Don't Bother
You know we don't really love one another
And there's no use
In burning out this flame
Oh but then things changed in a way I couldn't predict
She said I love you and it suddenly clicked
That she was only saying what she wanted me to hear
And I said
Please don't lie to me Mary
And I said
Please don't lie to me Mary

I said
Please don't lie
Oh it makes me cry in bed
I said
Please don't lie
Oh it makes me cry in bed
I said
Please don't lie
Oh it makes me cry in bed
And she said
Shut your mouth
You don't know what you're talking about
Oh she said
Shut your mouth
You don't know what you're talking about

I set my soul to sleep beneath your shoes

You are tired,
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.

Come with me, then,
And we'll leave it far and far away—
(Only you and I, understand!)

You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and—
Just tired.
So am I.

But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.

Ah, come with me!
I'll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I'll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.
You are tired (I think) by e.e. cummings

Monday, December 28, 2009

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Evil urges

Friday, December 25, 2009

Thursday, December 24, 2009

And the kitchen floor makes me sad, and the carpet on the floor rolls up, and the chair at my side walks on

You've taken over my mind. You've raped my thoughts with your image viruses then sold me fake cures for your own disease. Your words and pictures scream orders at me like angry prison wardens. When I cover my ears, your voices echo in my head. I hate you. When I see your billboards, your talk shows, your rock concerts and your factories, when I see the work of your twisted libidos, I want to kill you. I want to set fires, plant bombs, derail trains. I want to smash your buildings and tear at your bodies until the skin of my hands is worn to the bone. I am filled with a rage that burns my eyes.

I don't want to feel this way. You have done this to me. These feelings are the fruits of your multi-billion dollar sowing. And I am not alone. There are others like me out here. Every suicide, every madman, every man and woman who gets a gun and just starts shooting -- these are your illegitimate children. They don't all know what they are doing. All they know is hate for the invisible walls which you have raised around them, hate for the narrow path you have tried to make them walk. And the innocent pay in blood for your negligence.

Remember this: My mind is big. The more you try to push me down and make me small, the greater the pressure inside me becomes. The greater the pressure, the greater the chance of an explosion. There was once a time when I felt love, but now I feel only hate and anger, and fear at what I might do. And you can tell me to "BE HAPPY," but I know that you really mean "BE QUIET".

Believe me, I want to be happy. You stand in my way.
Found in a bathroom

Final countdown

Something Good by Utah Saints

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Saturday, December 12, 2009

Now only a few more to go

Skhizein by Jérémy Clapin

Friday, December 11, 2009

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Anything much sweeter than you would make me die

I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together, in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane.
John Green

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Monday, December 7, 2009

He cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision—he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath—"The horror! The horror!"

...I've seen the devil of violence, and the devil of greed, and the devil of hot desire; but, by all the stars! these were strong, lusty, red-eyed devils, that swayed and drove men -- men I tell you.
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad

Moonlight Sonata

The Alps with Ludwig van Beethoven

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Everytime I try to walk away something makes me turn around

Men are disturbed, not by the things that happen, but by their opinion of the things that happen.
Epictetus

Friday, December 4, 2009

I fought for each breath for as long as I could

Vivian by Delta Spirit

Winter passing


Some say, death is the easy way and I think they're right.
Cause nights tick by like a long week except when you stop by.
And I know that tryin' gets nothing done and I see you're about dry.
Cause nothing gets you high, you're poor the day you die,
And alcohol it only makes you tired.
But seein' you feels good, and it's always understood
That anything much sweeter would make me die.

Death is the Easy Way by My Morning Jacket