Friday, June 22, 2007

coffee black and egg white pull me out from inside i am ready i am ready i am ready i am fine

colour is for the birds, anyway.

Friday, June 08, 2007

Matt Good Rants - Tits and ass

Yesterday, whilst driving to the grocery store, I heard MG's new song 'born losers'. It's off of his upcoming album, 'hospital music'. The song is fantastic and fully satisfies my ever present need to hear new music by this man. Anyway, it got me thinking about a series called Matt Rants that was broadcast on MUCHMUSIC a few years back. This one is by far my favourite.

ahhh, MG - how i love thee.

Friday, June 01, 2007

don't hold me up now, i can stand my own ground, i don't need your help now, you won't let me down, down down

it's that sinking feeling.
that constant reminder of what is and what isn't.
to be back here. in this place, this space that i searched for as a way out of where i was and into you.

what a comfort it was to me then, when i would look around and reflect on why i came here and what i left and the endless reasons of why i could and should be happy now.

had me some plans. like so many plans, as it turned out- they just looked good on paper.

and i used to write to you that your pillows were more comfortable than mine.
and you used to say that perception is a funny thing.

this apartment became a waiting room of sorts, where i picked up things or dropped off things- always on my way to see you. and i would let carton after carton of milk spoil in the fridge, unopened, in the meantime. i never made a home here because it always felt so temporary.

so i left the walls unpainted and the cupboards empty and though you never spent a single night here with me- i feel these walls close in on me now like a strangler whose hands have found a neck. each day, at varying intensities, your breath keeps blowing my curtains around and the steady drum of your heartbeat shakes the pictures from my walls.

i wonder if i should move, but that, too, feels pointless.

now the voice in my head says to let it pass. she says to tear out the pages where i wrote down our children's names- that it was bad luck anyway- and put those photos away in a drawer. she says that cigarettes are not food, though i don't feel nourishment from much else.

and i used to write that your pillows were more comfortable than mine.
and you used to say, 'don't forget the fit'.

the things
the things we do just to stay alive.