circus

after a perfect night out, i returned to my empty apartment with one thought in my mind: i need to listen to iron and wine. what prompted this intense desire to listen to iron and wine i do not know, but i think smoking had a lot to do with it. folksy music is my element. and when i'm in a curious state of mind, all i want is my blanket and my folksy music. 

the interesting thing is that i haven't listened to iron and wine in a very long time. he, Samuel Beam, is a poet and a great melody maker. his music flows in a way that i cannot compare; almost like lullabies. i'm happy to have rediscovered the music. it makes for a good sunday wind down.

a beautiful song (click the link to hear it, it's really a gorgeous consistent beat/melody/whatever. i'm obsessed).

and the lyrics are so honest and they make you feel like the event was something from your memory, not sam beam's: 

THE TRAPEZE SWINGER
Please, remember me
Happily
By the rosebush laughing
With bruises on my chin
The time when
We counted every black car passing
Your house beneath the hill
And up until
Someone caught us in the kitchen
With maps, a mountain range
A piggy bank
A vision too removed to mention
But

Please, remember me
Fondly
I heard from someone you're still pretty
And then
They went on to say
That the pearly gates
Had some eloquent graffiti
Like "We'll meet again"
And "Fuck the man"
And "Tell my mother not to worry"
And angels with their great
Handshakes
Were always done in such a hurry
And

Please, remember me
At Halloween
Making fools of all the neighbors
Our faces painted white
By midnight
We'd forgotten one another
And when the morning came
I was ashamed
Only now it seems so silly
That season left the world
And then returned
And now you're lit up by the city
So

Please, remember me
Mistakenly
In the window of the tallest tower
Calling passers-by
But much too high
To see the empty road at happy hour
Gleam and resonate
Just like the gates
Around the holy kingdom
With words like "Lost and found"
And "Don't look down"
And "Someone save Temptation"
And

Please, remember me
As in the dream
We had as rug-burn babies
Among the fallen trees
And fast asleep
Aside the lions and the ladies
That called you what you like
And even might
Give a gift for your behavior
A fleeting chance to see
A trapeze
Swing as high as any savior
But

Please, remember me
My misery
And how it lost me all I wanted
Those dogs that love the rain
And chasing trains
The colored birds above their running
In circles around the well
And where it spells
On the wall behind St. Peter
So bright with cinder gray
And spray paint
"Who the hell can see forever?"
And

Please, remember me
Seldomly
In the car behind the carnival
My hand between your knees
You turned from me
And said, "The trapeze act was wonderful
But never meant to last"
The clown that passed
Saw me just come up with anger
When it filled with circus dogs
The parking lot
Had an element of danger
So

Please, remember me
Finally
And all my uphill clawing
My dear
But if I make
The pearly gates
Do my best to make a drawing
Of God and Lucifer
A boy and girl
An angel kissing on a sinner
A monkey and a man
A marching band
All around the frightened trapeze swingers

funnies

if you've read The Vista recently, you know who The Lonely Island are. it's andy samberg and co.'s band. they have these super silly videos on their youtube channel thing. made me laugh out loud

safeties

do you ever crave a safety? something to make you feel secure or comfortable; automatically at ease? i'm not talking people company. i'm talking objects. 

once you get home after a night that a left a bad thought in the body of your many muddled thoughts, do you ever automatically crave a certain food? certain pair of socks? cerrtain hoodie?

i get these urges sometimes to clutch my blanket/shawl while watching late night tv. conan or jay, it doesn't matter. all that matters is that i am comfortable with my thoughts, curled on my couch and wearing my velour sweater top. 

it's an interesting concept, that attitudes and memories that connect you to a certain object can make you feel safe or at home. or even a song, or tv show. it's fun to understand your senses.

sometimes i crave jewelry.

why?

songwriting at its most provocative. 

Good Friday

by WHY?

if you grew up with white boys
who only look at black and puerto rican porno
cause they want something that their dad don't got
then you know where you're at

mortaring your earholes shut in a rush with wet coke
in a starbucks bathroom with the door closed
on booze, i'm left in residue and confused
like the first time you used soft water
down on my luck, caught unaware
like houdini when the last fist struck

if i'm sinking in laughing at something sunken in, i am

sucking dick for drink tickets
at the free bar at my cousin's bat mitzvah
cutting the punch line and it ain't no joke
devoid of all hope circus mirrors and pot smoke
picking fights on dyke night
with shirlies and lokes and snatching purses

doing out on karaoke and forgetting all the verses
blowing kisses to disinterested bitches
playing lead lay in a bad way on broadway
sending sexy smses to my exes new man cause i can
on the road trying to break an old van
eating pussy for new fangs, i am what the hell
using purell till my hands bleed and swell
missing mail at a motel 6, i'm unwell

if i'm sinking in laughing at something sunken in, i am

it feels exciting touching your handwriting
getting horny by reading it and repeating poor me
intently staring at the picture of your feet on the sticker
at the r. crumb exhibit, i wonder who's sicker

jerking off in an art museum john till my dick hurts
the kind of shit i won't admit to my head shrinker
not even in a whisper to my own little sister
i just act like a dick and talk shit when i'm with her

aught six i'll say the friday before easter
this is not good i cried to myself in the pisser
and with you in the front row at the silver jews show
and you act like you didn't notice, my fear of the bear
at showbiz pizza when i was six was overwhelming and not dissimilar to this

if i'm sinking in laughting at something sunken in, i am

at jacob han's on tour i wake up
hung over on a hardwood floor
from a dream about how your dress
hangs off of your little breasts
i'd rather be dead than call this song
how i lost your respect but god bless or get neglected
and i'll see you when the sun sets east, don't forget me

koalalalala

koalas are taking over the internet this week because of their love of water. but i think it's heartwarming to see a burly firefighter giving a koala a drink from a water bottle in the midst of the smoke and debris of the terrifying wildfires in Australia. i'm thankful that my cousins and at least one koala are safe.

photo courtesy Associated Press

a post yclept NEW

i have a new favorite word:

yclept

whoever created this word is someone i wish could have been my best friend or related to me or something. i'd love to pick their brain.

it means "by the name of"

i don't care if it's archaic and humorous as my dictionary says. i think it's cool.

bodies

there is something really NOT comforting about watching people die peacefully (on ER). it might have something to do with the fact that my chest has been tight all day and i can hardly breathe. 

i've realized something odd. school is stressing me out. that's not too odd. but the reason it's stressing me out is because i WANT to do all the homework. i WANT to attend every single class. i WANT to learn as much as i can. i want to absorb every drop of knowledge collecting in my notebook. i want all of it, but i don't have enough time. i've learned so much about the world by reading two sections of the newspaper every day. it's a good feeling, feeling informed. my media and conflict class is extremely fulfilling. i feel passionate about the videos we're watching and the discussions we're having. i feel like i'm at the right place when i'm in that class. but as soon as i get home and i have to read for my philosophy and lit class AND another newspaper AND two selections for media and conflict, and it's 10 pm, it's overwhelming. i'm a born crammer, but i'm not a born slacker. i'm too motivated. i need to slow down. that's what my lungs are telling me. 

all i want to do is watch the office online but USD's internet is a disappointment yet again. the one night i can actually semi relax (no class on fridays!!!!!) it just won't work out. 

all of this is 10 times more stressful because i can't afford text books. tooooo muchhhh stressssss. 

conan said it best

in reference to Phelps taking a bong rip:

"kids, don't share your pot with someone who has the lung capacity of a dolphin"

irony

how ironic is it that someone named Bertha was performing illegal abortions in l.a.?

sillzville

"A 6-foot-high monument of a shoe in honor of the journalist who threw his footwear at the former President George W. Bush was unveiled in Tikrit yesterday, former dictator Saddam Hussein's hometown. The copper-coated shoe is filled with a large plastic bush."

this is true. i read it in the union-tribune. and it's silly.

photo courtesy REUTERS/Sabah al-Bazee