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jacktellsliesmy stomach has been burning and squirming for a week. the past has been welling up to swallow me for as long, and, as is usual, it is a heavy thing, an ocean. (go away, little ghost. go away.) so i'll build islands, then.
i learned to read watching my father's operas, the magic flute and carmen. beethoven's ninth, the first album i ever bought, can also be blamed on the man.
hole belonged to my sister and me; we thrashed around the living room, me screaming and she meeting strings for the first time.
i found tori amos on the radio, and then alone in my room. the rest of the day was lost to writing and masturbation. later, she belonged to teresa and me. we sang god in multicultural like dragon girls while i drew her naked in my notebook. we had the doors, turned on loud so her mother wouldn't hear us while we found each other's scratches and scars, and the time her boyfriend and some friend of his walked in while we were practicing stripping to nine inch nails. we laughed and laughed at them, and they were amazed and knew not what to say.
there was, of course, all the rock music in the world, listening to the boys play, and to aerosmith, and fucking all the time. there were the awful things ceil played in her car, but that i loved anyway, because driving with her was the safest space i'd ever known. i listened to bjork because of mike keenan, and they thought i was crazy.
there was michelle, who was dykey and glam and amazing and made my brain explode. she gave me my first david bowie album.
there were the metal boys. strange, but liz kubiak would seem to be songless, reminding me, instead, of shakespeare and jane austen and a poem about the industrial revolution.
there were solitary things, and there were things i can't remember. i gothed a bit, dorming my freshman year. there were some things by the cruxshadows, but mostly voltaire and rasputina and bach.
ireland was wearing velvet blazers and dying my hair and walking drunk around saint stephen's green and over my bridge at night. it was the clash and the pixies and the smiths and siouxsie and the banshees and depeche mode and one blur song and so many bar songs and bjork for airports and that night with liz from chicago.
i was listening to a lot of radiohead when finn came to philadelphia, and london was mix tape number one, a sad thing, in retrospect, the focus of with was hairdresser on fire.
last year kaitlin and i fell in friend love in her car, singing songs alex wrote and meeping.
california was mix tape number two and a fifty cent tape of new wave rock, most notably featuring she blinded me with science.
this, then, is my island made of milk cartons, recognized as a sovereign state by at least one country, on which i'll raise cattle. and cattle are, of course, the first system of currency, three of which would have been worth a girl.
i learned to read watching my father's operas, the magic flute and carmen. beethoven's ninth, the first album i ever bought, can also be blamed on the man.
hole belonged to my sister and me; we thrashed around the living room, me screaming and she meeting strings for the first time.
i found tori amos on the radio, and then alone in my room. the rest of the day was lost to writing and masturbation. later, she belonged to teresa and me. we sang god in multicultural like dragon girls while i drew her naked in my notebook. we had the doors, turned on loud so her mother wouldn't hear us while we found each other's scratches and scars, and the time her boyfriend and some friend of his walked in while we were practicing stripping to nine inch nails. we laughed and laughed at them, and they were amazed and knew not what to say.
there was, of course, all the rock music in the world, listening to the boys play, and to aerosmith, and fucking all the time. there were the awful things ceil played in her car, but that i loved anyway, because driving with her was the safest space i'd ever known. i listened to bjork because of mike keenan, and they thought i was crazy.
there was michelle, who was dykey and glam and amazing and made my brain explode. she gave me my first david bowie album.
there were the metal boys. strange, but liz kubiak would seem to be songless, reminding me, instead, of shakespeare and jane austen and a poem about the industrial revolution.
there were solitary things, and there were things i can't remember. i gothed a bit, dorming my freshman year. there were some things by the cruxshadows, but mostly voltaire and rasputina and bach.
ireland was wearing velvet blazers and dying my hair and walking drunk around saint stephen's green and over my bridge at night. it was the clash and the pixies and the smiths and siouxsie and the banshees and depeche mode and one blur song and so many bar songs and bjork for airports and that night with liz from chicago.
i was listening to a lot of radiohead when finn came to philadelphia, and london was mix tape number one, a sad thing, in retrospect, the focus of with was hairdresser on fire.
last year kaitlin and i fell in friend love in her car, singing songs alex wrote and meeping.
california was mix tape number two and a fifty cent tape of new wave rock, most notably featuring she blinded me with science.
this, then, is my island made of milk cartons, recognized as a sovereign state by at least one country, on which i'll raise cattle. and cattle are, of course, the first system of currency, three of which would have been worth a girl.
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(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-01 10:18 am (UTC)I love you guys.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-01 10:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-01 10:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-01 10:29 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-01 10:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-01 10:34 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-01 10:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-01 10:42 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-01 10:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-01 08:13 pm (UTC)secondly, liz makes me think of the same things. those, and the nights we spent lying in beds or on couches talking about our weaknesses and such.
thirdly, do i remind you of anything? other than things that go squeek in the night, that is ^^
(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-05 05:24 pm (UTC)she is a lovely girl. i miss her.
i'm not sure you have songs. there are mental landscapes i have that remind me of you, though.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-07 10:18 am (UTC)me too.
huzzah for landscapes!