NEW ANDREW BIRD ALBUM TOMORROW

track of interest

Fitz and the dizzy spells


?

Last night
while I slept
your sister, who you envy
put a hand on me I did not ask for
and when I woke
it was to wonder after you.

Cold being the thing my body forgets the fastest
each winter I find myself recently showered, standing beswaddled in bathroom linens thinking
'this, this is really cold'

it never is, or if it is, I probably didnt really notice -
the muddled thermostat I have, registering only as it comes acclimated



I am so curious as to where you have gone.

Having nowhere else to put

am wicked disappointed about my birthday.

1-hand counts the number of people who remembered and then Wass bailed on me after making plans - just such a downer.

Days go by and not even 'oh, I was late'

Taking stock.

Realistically
I need to get laid.

Well. that went smashingly.

I hate not having anyone to show this place off to.

And this is the difference

when I sit down now
and write
I am the only one in it.
The best things I read, the stories the poems...I look, and I see myself
which means when someone else reads what I am writing
they should see themselves.
There isnt anyone in here but me.

That's the difference between this mopey diary bullshit
and poetry.

Thoughts on watching Good Will Hunting

I wish I was more in there than I think I am
or
I wish I was in there

I think I wasted all the concern the world has offered up to me
there is a sick place in me that I think I am exactly where my therapists would assume I would be
working so hard at being lonely, so badly walled off -
if I, for once, give them the credit of ever having seen me at all.
That's not me, I dont think.

Find me a book that explains why the water means so much
the window, the wind, the coast -
why the inside of my head is so much easier than the other options
it takes a lot of effort to be alone
you have to push a lot of people.

what do I know? what can I be sure of?
I wonder what the teachers actually thought  - memory is not safe, here
it is not enough. I am too clever at adjusting it, it is too malleable a resource
I just remember being told
that I am wasting my potential
and I wonder, if they expected not to reach me
and would feel validated to know
if in thinking they would not
did not try so hard
if they would remember me at all
if in remembering, they would be surprised that I have gone so long
and done so very very little.

does everyone go around thinking they have so much of it figured out
and doing so little with that figuring.

Poorly have I handled love
and I wonder how much more there is to be offered
what I have to change
to notice at the right time.
I have pent my money foolishly,
or on myself
and in carrying the thing I have held most dearly
ideals, morals
a sense of what is right to expect of others
I have chased away many of the friends
that many would expect
to help carry these things.


it isnt what I said to you
it is what you heard
it was never what you told me
it was only what I thought you said.

seriously, again?

could stand to be a little less emo
room is finally looking nice
wasted another thursday and it felt amazing
this house needs bourbon
I need some company
I also really need a nice desk, keep your eyes open!

I am staring out the window
balanced on the spindel chair
the back of someone else's air conditioner
widemouthed at my chest
you could not be staring out the window

the rain is coming
it was a summer
of such inevitable water
even this long into the woolly september
pushing itself through screens,
a cat with too much dinner,
gives up it's heat
in great fountains
it's late, we dont speak
you arent out there.

things I have or will learn that will make me a man
lightning goes up
I can be loved back
it is about picking your spots
loss at arm's length must be respected and is a teacher with no comparison by which to value save loss high in the shoulder
it is not what I say, it is what you hear
thus, what I hear is not what you said. ever.

It's crazy to me.
Sitting down to write now...it's hard. Called it ghostly to someone, trying to explain what losing it all did.
I've been treating losing my harddrive like it cheated on me - it doesnt matter where it is in the room, my eyes wont go there. Cant seem to think too hard about it - never lost anyone, but I wonder if this feels a bit like this, the turns the brain is willing to make to avoid being reminded.

Fuck.

The feature looms and I cant imagine just repeating the same show, but I dont have anything else. The pieces that were near are gone, heck, I might not even have all the work from that show. I'm...baffled. I lost a book. A fucking book. Everytime I sit down to start again, it's.....starting again. Like I blew a knee out and I have to learn to walk again.
A FUCKING BOOK.

I used to be able to confidently state the worst day of my life. Now I dont know. And I give a fuck all to be reminded, as some people have, that 'well, if that's the worst thing that's ever happened to you...you're lucky'

sure. fine. someone else has had something bad happen to them, thereby invalidating the loss of what, to this point, I would comfortably call my life's work.

Have been sitting in this place where I was wondering if I was ever going to BE something.
If I ever had a thing I could do worth noting to a stranger.
How to tell the stores again? How when I was so sure it was the right way?
How do you re-write it?

Can't shake this shit.

No matter how many times I do this, no matter how well I set up, or prepare - there is really nothing in the world like it. I, by nature of desensitization, do not suffer emotional woes at the packing and shifting of my personal belongings. I have moved at least once a year for the last....just about a decade..and sometimes more than once a year. There are boxes I own, whose contents are known to me, that I simply do not bother to unpack. A year's time is not sufficient reason for the effort.
They are not things I do not love, and clearly are not needed, but I carry much of my history around on my back because my mother lacks a basement in which to put things I still want but cannot keep. So I keep them anyway.
And lift them and carry them and try to stuff them into closets or corners where they will not impede the life so rudely interrupted by the move.

I worked everyday last week and when I was not working, I was filling my stalwart little wagon with belongings and lugging them to the new place, or cleaning the old place in the hopes of retrieving my security deposit. The roommates rallied to help clean up and get themselves out and that was nice, our last few hours as housemates were pleasant, but it is not a living situation I see myself revisiting ever again. The stress of the last year, of simply being at home, was too much. Here is hoping on a bit more calm and a bit more eye-to-eye.

This feels like running on a beach does. After the shower, my skin feels like it's been worn away by sand, hyper-smooth. I acquired a small airplane engine in the disguise of a fan that is roaring happily as it fends off the heat of my attic room - attic rooms will always be the most unpleasant of partners, giving you much too much of whatever weather there is to offer. This is nothing new. I have not met the house that can stop me from sleeping, eating and using the loo. I doubt this will be it.

Now comes the furious few days of unpacking what will be unpacked...trying to place the books, find room for the clothes, make a sustainable space for myself. Then I will settle in, get to writing again...it feels like it's been a really long time. I've been llonely, no one to talk to, and in that small space, the moving and my focus on it was good. Gave me no time to worry or fret or think.

I sort of find it hard to believe that the loud horror of moving is actually over.

No matter how many times I do this, no matter how well I set up, or prepare - there is really nothing in the world like it. I, by nature of desensitization, do not suffer emotional woes at the packing and shifting of my personal belongings. I have moved at least once a year for the last....just about a decade..and sometimes more than once a year. There are boxes I own, whose contents are known to me, that I simply do not bother to unpack. A year's time is not sufficient reason for the effort.
They are not things I do not love, and clearly are not needed, but I carry much of my history around on my back because my mother lacks a basement in which to put things I still want but cannot keep. So I keep them anyway.
And lift them and carry them and try to stuff them into closets or corners where they will not impede the life so rudely interrupted by the move.

I worked everyday last week and when I was not working, I was filling my stalwart little wagon with belongings and lugging them to the new place, or cleaning the old place in the hopes of retrieving my security deposit. The roommates rallied to help clean up and get themselves out and that was nice, our last few hours as housemates were pleasant, but it is not a living situation I see myself revisiting ever again. The stress of the last year, of simply being at home, was too much. Here is hoping on a bit more calm and a bit more eye-to-eye.

This feels like running on a beach does. After the shower, my skin feels like it's been worn away by sand, hyper-smooth. I acquired a small airplane engine in the disguise of a fan that is roaring happily as it fends off the heat of my attic room - attic rooms will always be the most unpleasant of partners, giving you much too much of whatever weather there is to offer. This is nothing new. I have not met the house that can stop me from sleeping, eating and using the loo. I doubt this will be it.

Now comes the furious few days of unpacking what will be unpacked...trying to place the books, find room for the clothes, make a sustainable space for myself. Then I will settle in, get to writing again...it feels like it's been a really long time. I've been llonely, no one to talk to, and in that small space, the moving and my focus on it was good. Gave me no time to worry or fret or think.

Artie is on the job.
So far he has recovered my images, which is mainly people I dont talk to so I can remember what they look like.
And a few word files I did not think I would be capable of wanting back so hard.

Dear God of Technology,
   Please help Artie recover my writing. If you desire it, I will then...how do you sacrifice an old laptop to a God?

Hmm.

Please post here concepts and ideas of how I can properly repay the kindness and acumen of a technological deity.


seriously.

Old computer is dead.
I lost all of my writing.

Best mom everrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Can you imagine living in a place where birth control is considered an "abortion" and health insurers won't cover it? Where even rape victims are denied emergency contraception?

It seems unbelievable, but the Bush Administration is quietly trying to redefine "abortion" to include birth control. The Houston Chronicle says this could wipe out dozens of state laws that protect women's reproductive freedom and protect rape victims. And this proposed "rule change" doesn't need congressional approval.

I just signed a message to Health and Human Services Secretary Mike Leavitt, whose department is considering this rule change, telling him: "Contraception is NOT abortion." Can you add your voice to this cause? Click here to sign the message: http://pol.moveon.org/contraception/?r_by=-10033772-.Y1Mx1x&rc=paste


apologies if you have to cut and paste the link - have limited utility available with current laptop rig.
This concept galls me, to say nothing of how draconian the simple..idea..of it is, but to try and motivate such a chang without it facing it's due time in front of Congress? Something with such intense ramifications?
That's a shame on this country I do not think I could stand.
I trust in our system to stagnate change, good or bad, and I trust that most of the insane ideas that enter the system will be ground down and spit out - for good or ill I can expect our 'leaders' to maintain a certain, unradical status-quo...but this, that this, weeks after I first heard of it, has not yet been quelled is dire.
Please follow the link, give some support.

something is very wrong with my computer.
I may be out of touch for sometime til I can figure it out.