I guess I’ll just go home, Oh God knows where. Because death is just so full and man so small. Well I’m scared of what’s behind and what’s before.
can you play that song, of yours, ‘what the fuck am i doing’?
“
| — |
My one and only ukulele student (via jennyowenyoungs)
That’s my favorite song to play. Oh man. |
I wake up in between two lives. Like my steps, I’m not sure which one came first, but I trip down the stairs and blindly grab keys off the ring. I take my brother to his school. I think he’s my brother, but I don’t know where I came from. Maybe the East or maybe the West. I could belong to either of them. I don’t really care where I’m going so I’ve never been lost. Either side can take me, as long as they promise to keep me. The sun isn’t even up as I roll down the road, driving him towards the train station. I weakly turn the wheel this way, and then another way. I’m not really sure where I’m going, but I make it home fine. The sun is just rising. It’s so cold. Sort of feels like fall. But it probably is already, I just missed it on the calendar I’m flipping through. No breakfast. Maybe coffee. I don’t know how to set those damn timed coffee makers so I use a pot. I forgot to check the mail yesterday. Or maybe it was two days ago. I limp barefoot outside towards the mailbox. These are the best worst mornings when you are too close to throwing up to feel comfortable. I don’t know the last time I felt comfortable before 8am. I throw some taxes on the counter and push pots out of the way blindly. Here’s one from you— from Chicago. Some disposable camera pictures of you and your mother standing by a lake and some big buildings. You thought it would be great for maybe one of my photo albums. I think about throwing it in the back of that dusty, red album, the one that I never open anymore. But all the pictures you sent me end up torn in half and in the garbage. Hell, I grab the whole album, flip through the pages really fast and grab just a couple pictures before tossing the whole thing in the trash. The morning feels like hell. The coffee is bitter. It still feels hot when it should be cold and cold when it should be hot. I can barely open my eyes, anyways. I collapse back on the couch, closing my eyes. I think of every picture of you that I threw away. They keep popping up, like they have a voice of their own. They keep telling me of each time we took a picture in a photo booth; or maybe a picture picnicking in your backyard; or maybe the pictures that your little brothers took of us crashed out on the couch. They remind me that their still there. But in my head, I tear up each and every one until they are small, still pieces that no longer speak.
My best friend, maybe my sister— I don’t really know—wakes up. She trips up the stairs from the freezing basement. She complains of some headaches and grabs the aspirin bottle and a cup of coffee. She probably takes more pills than the recommended safety amount. She sits down next to me and talks. Maybe about her work, maybe about her boyfriend, but I don’t really listen. It’s five minutes before I realize she left for work already. I must have fallen back to sleep. I turn off the flashing computer screen and start to type. Without seeing any words and without seeing any pixels; just a black screen as I type, like every single morning. I get dressed in between two lives, and shower in between two lives, and walk in between two lives. Right on the dotted line. I don’t care who’s side I fall on, just so long as I fall.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Jenny Owen Youngs- Have You Forgotten (Red House Painters cover)
Have I not posted the audio for this yet? Good gravy. Well. Whether I have or not, here it is (possibly again). I contributed this Red House Painters cover to the Sing Me To Sleep: Indie Lullabies comp… The record benefits the Valerie Fund, which you will love (unless you are really pro-Cancer-in-children). Don’t illegally download THIS one, guys. Jeez.
Jenny once again proves to be my favorite human being on planet earth.
We take what we’re given. Just because you’ve forgotten doesn’t mean you’re forgiven.
Polaroid, how I love you so.
HAHA THIS IS THE BEST!
(via meltinyourmouth)
I feel like I’m ALWAYS being told to just draw the rest of the fucking owl.
Hahahahaha!
