I woke up and for the first time…

The Animals Were Gone
Damien Rice

Woke up and for the first time the animals were gone
It’s left this house empty now, not sure if I belong
Yesterday you asked me to write you a pleasant song
I’ll do my best now, but you’ve been gone for so long

The window’s open now and the winter settles in
We’ll call it Christmas when the adverts begin
I love your depression and I love your double chin
I love ’most everything that you bring to this offering

Oh I know that I left you in places of despair
Oh I know that I love you, so please throw down your hair
At night I trip without you, and hope I don’t wake up
’Cause waking up without you is like drinking from an empty cup

Woke up and for the first time the animals were gone
Our clocks are ticking now so before our time is gone
We could get a house and some boxes on the lawn
We could make babies and accidental songs

I know I’ve been a liar and I know I’ve been a fool
I hope we didn’t break yet, but I’m glad we broke the rules
My cave is deep now, yet your light is shining through
I cover my eyes, still all I see is you

Oh I know that I left you in places of despair
Oh I know that I love you, so please throw down your hair
At night I trip without you, and hope I don’t wake up
’Cause waking up without you is like drinking from an empty cup

…I realized how much I miss you.
And for the record, you don’t have a double chin. But I love it all the same.

p.s.

Because Regina always says it best:

This is how it works
You’re young until you’re not
You love until you don’t
You try until you can’t
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe
Until their dying breath

No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some
Someone else’s heart
Pumping someone else’s blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don’t get harmed
But even if it does
You’ll just do it all again, and

On the radio
You’ll hear November Rain
That solo’s awful long
But it’s a good refrain
You’ll listen to it twice
’Cause the DJ is asleep

Those are the days I miss most…

How it Ends
by DeVotchKa

Hold your grandmother’s Bible to your breast.
Gonna put it to the test.
You want it to be blessed.
And in your heart,
You know it to be true,
You know what you gotta do.
They all depend on you.
And you already know.
Yeah, you already know how this will end.

There is no escape,
From the slave-catchers’ songs.
For all of the loved ones gone.
Forever’s not so long.
And in your soul,
They poked a million holes.
But you never let ’em show.
C’mon it’s time to go.

And you already know
Yeah, you already know
How this will end.

Now you’ve seen his face.
And you know that there’s a place,
In the sun,
For all that you’ve done,
For you and your children.
No longer shall you need.
You always wanted to believe,
Just ask and you’ll receive,
Beyond your wildest dreams.

And you already know
Yeah, you already know
How this will end.

You already know (You already know)
You already know (You already know)
You already know (Love will end)

Spring Broke

I recently ventured westward to my old friend the Oregon Coast. I know I had a lot more I wanted to write about this, but it is getting late and I am getting tired. The basics of it are something along the lines of Bill’s Tavern and Brew House is a great place to go if you’re ever in the Canon Beach area. Also, I was reminded of a trip I took to the Oregon Coast a year ago for what was to be my last Spring Break. A certain female, who I adored, risked being with my family for a whole week in a place with few escapes. Unfortunately we weren’t anywhere near Canon Beach so we had a wax museum, rugged fishing boats, endless rain, and indoor volleyball to keep us “entertained.” Apparently rugged fishing towns on an angry coast overflowing with antique shops and mom-and-pop diners aren’t her thing. Which is sad to me because I love them like I love every member of my own family.

In The Morning, Before Work

by Owen

I eat with these crooked teeth
Tomato soup and grilled cheese
But you already know that because you used to dine with me
Do you remember?

I listen to my same old cd's
New order & Morissey
But you already know that because you used to ride with me
I thought I'd be singing a different tune by now
But this song about you keeps coming out

I sleep in these dirty sheets
A blanket between my boney knees
But you already know that because you used to
Crawl in bed with me in the morning before work

Put your hands on my back
Kiss the back of my neck

I thought I'd be singing a different tune by now
But this song about you keeps coming out
I hoped to be singing to someone new by now
But the songs about you keep coming out

S.A.D.

Welcome to Singles Awareness Day. Allow me to rant, if I may…

I love orange marmalade. I do not know why. I don't particularly enjoy orange peelings, but when they're mashed up and mixed with a butt-load of sugar, I suddenly adore them. I relish putting marmalade jam/jelly on English muffins. Why must we capitalize the name of languages even if they are being used as a pseudo-adjective? Maybe we shouldn't. Maybe it should just be english muffins. Then again, who really gives a shit? I guess I don't.

Some people seem to think that cats are better pets than dogs. I think that this is definitely a matter of personal preference, but I will forever contend that cats are crappy pets and dogs are totally the best. First of all, cats are practically free while dogs cost a fortune. This is to say that people want dogs more than they desire cats. Secondly, cats are so freaking moody and independent. You have to win their affection but they will still only give you affection when you least desire it (when you are trying to sleep, e.g.). Dogs, on the other hand, are almost always willing to give you instant affection and they will remain loyal forever. Also, dogs are much better at sensing when you are emotionally down and they will console you, even though they haven't a clue what you are saying. Thirdly, cats, in general, have more hair than dogs (or at least the kind of dog that I want) and they shed WAY more. Plus, you always have to hold a cat so that they can feel loved and this always disperses nasty cat hairs all over your sweater/jacket/coat/shirt/face/legs/pants/shoes/hat/scarf/whatever! Lastly, dogs are much easier to train.

You know what really irks me? People who are very opinionated about everything, whether or not they actually know anything about it, and can't stand to be wrong. So much so that they will back up things that they don't have adequate knowledge on with faulty logic. And the thing that gets me the most: not being able to say that they are wrong. Even if they AREN'T. Just to end an argument or to let somebody else have their moment in the sun, they will NEVER back down from ANY argument nor will they EVER admit, accept, or agree to defeat. They may consider it perseverance, determination, and a never-say-die philosophy, but I would consider it complete egoism and utter arrogance.

To the one who thinks she doesn't matter:
Thank you for the 20 dollars in a time when I needed it most. I am ashamed to say that I spent it all in one place. Thank you for the card. I adore it. Thank you for the moments of understanding and the willingness to listen when understanding fails. Thank you for your honesty. Thank you for being the best I have ever had, and most likely the best I ever will have had. (I think that's a pluperfect subjunctive.) Thank you for not killing me…or yourself. Thank you for everything you've ever done for me and for loving me even though I hardly did anything for you. Thank you a million times, and a million times again.

I'm sorry.

I can see right over the tops of the houses…

There we were. Ike, Mike, and Mustard—or at least Crazy, Cool, and Nervous-As-All-Hell. Our car enveloped in thick fog as the night indifferently rolled on. No moon to guide us, but for now that was no problem. Ten minutes outside of town, Crazy slows down, turns off the headlights, and pulls into a gravel road as The Beatles tell us how far their troubles seemed to be yesterday. Parking behind a large grain elevator in between two homes, she tells us to very quietly exit the vehicle. We do so, taking extra care to lightly close our car doors and then bump them fully shut with our torsos. That's the most action I've gotten in months; side-humping the left, rear door of Crazy's sedan.

Crazy leads the way. She's done this before. And not just at this location. She's moving like a skilled professional. "It's a bit muddy here," she whispers back at us in a motherly tone. We sidestep onto a slab of cement. A gently curving yet rocky path veers off to our left guiding us to our point of ascension betwixt the silo and the elevator. Icicles dangle from the bottom rung of a frigid metal ladder. "Come on. Now all we have to do is climb," she instructs. With a fluid, effortless movement that would make a river jealous, she reaches up and grabs the first rung, which is a good six feet above the ground, swings over to one side, throws a leg up onto some sort of electrical switch box, and shimmies herself half-way up the ladder. Cool steps up next.

"I can't reach," she says, more out-loud than I would prefer.

"Just grab it and then use the box to push yourself up," retorts Crazy.

I give her a boost, still wondering why I agreed to climb up such a monstrosity in the first place. As I stare towards the summit, trying to catch a glimpse at the goal, my fear of heights begins to wonder even more.

"Are you coming?" Cool asks without really waiting for an answer.

"Uhm…Yeah, just give me a minute," I stammer, and, after a quick breather, I grab that icy bottom rung, throw my leg up onto the box, and push myself up onto the ladder. Hand over hand, rung after frozen rung, I pull myself up the 20 feet of ladder to the first rooftop. Leaving the ladder behind me, I step towards the second ladder. My foot gives slightly on the icy rooftop and small chunks of my life flash before my eyes. They're all boring. Watching TV, learning code, sleeping in, eating junk food…is this all my life amounts to? New courage whelms up inside me. I begin the ascent up the second, frozen ladder.

About a quarter of the way up, and after already stopping twice to re-warm my hands, I pause once more to let the blood flow back into my fingers. In an attempt to keep my fingers warm, I pull the sleeves of my jacket over my hands and continue the climb. Eventually I realize that this is not helping as much as I'd hoped, so I devise a brilliant strategy of keeping my right hand covered with the sleeve of my jacket while my left hand remains exposed. Rather than climbing normally, hand over hand, I wrap my left arm around the side of the ladder and tuck it over the rung so as to gain a secondary "grip" on the ladder while freeing up my left jacket sleeve so that my right one could be pulled even farther to keep the hand actually gripping the rungs much warmer. With this new method, I climb the remaining 100-150 feet of ladder at double speed.

Naturally, Crazy and Cool had been at the top for quite some time periodically looking over the edge and calling down to me: "Hurry up!", "You're almost there!", "Are you doing alright?", "It's so great up here!", and so on. The top of the elevator wasn't the coolest thing in the world, but it certainly gave a feeling of accomplishment. Abysmal fog blocked the incandescence of the city from leaking into our eyes, but the view was not completely void of interest. After about 5 minutes of walking around to all sides and forcing myself to peer over the edges, we began the descent.

Once back on the ground (Oh, sweet ground!), we all scamper off to the car, climb inside—this time not caring how much noise we make—turn up the heat and let our chilled fingers pulsate. The Beatles croon about life in a Yellow Submarine as we vanish back into the forgetful night.

I can’t help it

It’s just the best damn music ever! It makes me so happy and sad at the same time.

“Grey Room”
Damien Rice

Well I’ve been here before
Sat on the floor in a grey, grey room
Where I stay in all day
I don’t eat, but I play with this grey, grey food

Désolé, if someone is prayin’ then I might break out,
Désolé, even if I scream I can’t scream that loud

I’m all alone again
Crawling back home again
Stuck by the phone again

Well I’ve been here before
Sat on a floor in a grey, grey mood
Where I stay up all night
And all that I write is a grey, grey tune

So pray for me child, just for a while
That I might break out yeah
Pray for me child
Even a smile would do for now

’cause I’m all alone again
Crawling back home again
Stuck by the phone again

Have I still got you to be my open door
Have I still got you to be my sandy shore
Have I still got you to cross my bridge in this storm
Have I still got you to keep me warm

If I squeeze my grape and I drink my wine
’cause if I squeeze my grape and I drink my wine
Oh ’cause nothing is lost, it’s just frozen in frost,
And it’s opening time, there’s no one in line

But I’ve still got me to be your open door,
I’ve still got me to be your sandy shore
I’ve still got me to cross your bridge in this storm
And I’ve still got me to keep you warm

Warmer than warm, yeah
Warmer than warm, yeah
Warmer than warm, yeah
Warmer than warm, yeah

I’m in the habit of posting lyrics

“Poor Little Rich Boy”
Regina Spektor

Poor little rich boy, all the couples have gone
You wish that they hadn’t, you don’t wanna be alone
But they wanna kiss and they got homes of their own
Poor little rich boy all the couples have gone, they’ve gone, they’ve gone

And you don’t love your girlfriend
You don’t love your girlfriend
And you think that you should but she thinks that she’s fat
But she isn’t but you don’t love her anyway
And you don’t love your mother
And you know that you should
And you wish that you would
But you don’t anyway

Poor little rich boy, all the world is okay
The water runs off your skin and down into the drain
You’re reading Fitzgerald, you’re reading Hemmingway
They’re both super smart and drinking in the cafés

And you don’t love your girlfriend
You don’t love your girlfriend
And you think that you should but she thinks that she’s fat
But she isn’t but you don’t love her anyway
And you don’t love your mother
And you know that you should
And you wish that you would
But you don’t anyway

You’re so young, you’re so goddamn young
You’re so young, you’re so goddamn young
You’re so young, you’re so goddamn young
You’re so goddamn young
You’re so goddamn young
You’re so young, you’re so goddamn young
You’re so young, you’re so goddamn young
You’re so goddamn young

And you don’t love your girlfriend
And you don’t love your girlfriend
And you don’t love your girlfriend
And you don’t love your girlfriend

because it’s stuck in my head…

“Rootless Tree”
Damien Rice

What I want from you is empty your head.
But they say be true, don’t stain your bed.
And we do what we need to be free.
And it leans on me like a rootless tree.

What I want from us is empty our minds.
But we fake, we fuss, and fracture the times.
We go blind when we needed to see.
And this leans on me, like a rootless...

So fuck you, fuck you, fuck you
And all we've been through.
I said leave it, leave it, leave it,
It’s nothing to you.
And if you hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me so good
That you just let me out
Let me out, let me out?
It’s hell when you’re around.
Let me out, let me out, let me out.
Hell when you're around.
Let me out, let me out, let me out.

What I want from this
Is to learn to let go.
No, not of you
Of all that’s been told.
Killers re-invent and believe
And this leans on me, like a rootless...

So fuck you, fuck you, fuck you
And all we’ve been through.
I said leave it, leave it, leave it,
It’s nothing to you.
And if you hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me so good
That you just let me out
Let me out, let me out?
It’s hell when you’re around.
Let me out, let me out, let me out.
It’s hell when you’re around.

Let me out, let me out, let me out
Hell when you’re around.
Let me out, let me out, let me out
Hell when you’re around.

Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out.
Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out.
Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out.
Let me out, let me out, let me out!

So fuck you, fuck you, love you
And all you’ve been through.
I said leave it, leave it, leave it
It’s nothing to you.
And if you hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me so good
That you just let me out
Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out?

Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out.
Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out.
Let me out, let me out, let me out!

Let me out, let me out, let me out
Hell when you’re around.
Let me out, let me out, let me out
Hell when you’re around.
Let me out, let me out, let me out
Hell when you’re around.
Let me out, let me out, let me out
Hell when you’re around...

WTF mate?

I may very well be the most retarded person I know.

Seven years ago, the woman of my dreams calmly walked right into my life. We clicked instantly. We spent any free time we had calling each other up, just to talk. She drew me a picture of a metaphor. I drew her a picture of who knows what. She wrote two pages in my yearbook, one of which was a poem. I jotted down a quick paragraph in hers. She called and wrote letters over the summer. I switched schools and gradually drifted away from all contact with her. I was her first love, she was the girl of my dreams (even then!). She calmly walked into my life. I abruptly walked out of hers. She now lives in California. She has been married for a few years. There's nothing I can do. I skipped over my one shot at the future I always imagined. Now I know the price.

Over the holidays I attended an 8-year (don't ask me why!), 8th grade reunion. I arrived early, so I chatted it up with my friend and classmate, Justin, and his girlfriend. After a while, Justin's cousin, and another classmate, Steffan showed up. Neither of these was really a big deal since I've seen them both recently and nothing huge is going on in their lives (other than graduating and looking for work). Then John arrived. I hadn't seen him in years. He had brought his girlfriend. They're pretty cute together. More and more classmates from 8th grade began arriving. Kristofer and his wife. Kelsey and her husband. Nicole, but without her fiancé. Jackie, who I found out through conversation with her is now married and has a two-year-old son. Kailene, who is also married, and her baby. Suddenly this "casual" get together was a huge deal. Out of 12 classmates that were present, only four were completely single. Out of those four, I estimate that only one will still be single at the next reunion.

Me.