Six years is a long time to keep a semi-private mostly anonymous blog that 3 people read and 600 posts about god knows what. According to my label count, I apparently am very loquacious about my vices which sounds about right. Too bad The Aussies and mu didn't pan out as planned. And frankly, I better start blaming myself more often starting now.
Are you thinking the same things I do?
I been thinking about me & you
My nights are turning into days
But I don't know since everything changed
I only dream of you
You say that I
I'm untrue
Showing posts with label what I talk about when I don't talk about you. Show all posts
Showing posts with label what I talk about when I don't talk about you. Show all posts
11/01/2010
You are not mine
It bears repeating.
The heart is a stone and this is a stone that we throw
Put your hand on this stone, it's the stone of a home you know
They say we will go far, but they don't know how far we'll go
With our legs on the edge and our feet on the horizon
They say we can throw far but they don't know how far we throw
With our legs on the edge, and our feet on the horizon
The heart is a stone, and this is a stone that we throw
They say we will go far, but they don't know how far we'll go
It can't be gone, we're still right here
It took so long, can't say we heard it all
Limbs parallel, we stood so long we fell
Tear a moment from the days that carry us on forever
This push and pull is the force of a wave of time
In the heat of the night, we would cry, you are not mine
They said we would go far, but they don't know how far we'd go
'cause this heart is a stone, and this is a stone that we throw
It can't be gone, we're still right here
It took so long, can't say we saw it all
Limbs parallel, we stood so long we fell
Tear a moment from the days that carry us on forever
It can't be gone, we're still right here
It took so long, can't say we felt it all
Limbs parallel, we stood so long we fell
Love's like a pantheon, it carries on forever
- 10 Mile Stereo - Beach House
The heart is a stone and this is a stone that we throw
Put your hand on this stone, it's the stone of a home you know
They say we will go far, but they don't know how far we'll go
With our legs on the edge and our feet on the horizon
They say we can throw far but they don't know how far we throw
With our legs on the edge, and our feet on the horizon
The heart is a stone, and this is a stone that we throw
They say we will go far, but they don't know how far we'll go
It can't be gone, we're still right here
It took so long, can't say we heard it all
Limbs parallel, we stood so long we fell
Tear a moment from the days that carry us on forever
This push and pull is the force of a wave of time
In the heat of the night, we would cry, you are not mine
They said we would go far, but they don't know how far we'd go
'cause this heart is a stone, and this is a stone that we throw
It can't be gone, we're still right here
It took so long, can't say we saw it all
Limbs parallel, we stood so long we fell
Tear a moment from the days that carry us on forever
It can't be gone, we're still right here
It took so long, can't say we felt it all
Limbs parallel, we stood so long we fell
Love's like a pantheon, it carries on forever
- 10 Mile Stereo - Beach House
9/18/2010
Guess things are different here out in the country
Hello to you. It's been a long week of ups and downs I have to say. Recap: Work travel travel bombshell work play work. All I can say is that I'm glad it's the weekend so I can try to up the play a little bit.
Right now, it's what, 1130pm on a Sat night and I took a little break from writing a final project report to create a quick LJ/Bird tumblr because hello why not I like to have the point and post slash handy all in one place. And clearly, I am avoiding the report writing by blog writing this very post so you know.
Good things of late since I don't want to focus on the kinda major bad thing that happened this week which will affect my life/choices in some way although I'm not sure how yet: 1) The drive to western Kansas was lovely as always, it looked a lot like this:
2) I got the word that I will continue on my consulting gig ($$) for the next year with a group of folks I really like even if it means I have to go back to that Damn City again in a few weeks on my actual birthday so I better not get stuck there again I mean it; 3) Hello the Seattle Storm won the damned WNBA championship in case you hadn't noticed; 4) Spent some quality time with my new galfriend last night out in the country on her farm and it's really nice to hang with someone again, though you know, it's still hard, but it's good too; 5) I mowed the grass today even though the humidity was 1 million but you know how much I love mowing grass which is a lot and I bought a lilac bush and an early amethyst beautyberry bush to plant in the yard not sure where yet but it makes me happy; 6) Tomorrow I will help friends build some wooden sides for their flatbed 1/2 ton truck which of course means that I will finally be getting some wood action with my tools and man I miss the heck out of that; and 7) The dogs are snoring right now and it's quiet outside and some storms kinda came though so it will be a good night for sleeping in this house that I love like no one's business.
Enough of this chitchat, I need to write words that make sense even though no one in our damn government is going to read them. Goodnight to you.
Right now, it's what, 1130pm on a Sat night and I took a little break from writing a final project report to create a quick LJ/Bird tumblr because hello why not I like to have the point and post slash handy all in one place. And clearly, I am avoiding the report writing by blog writing this very post so you know.
Good things of late since I don't want to focus on the kinda major bad thing that happened this week which will affect my life/choices in some way although I'm not sure how yet: 1) The drive to western Kansas was lovely as always, it looked a lot like this:
2) I got the word that I will continue on my consulting gig ($$) for the next year with a group of folks I really like even if it means I have to go back to that Damn City again in a few weeks on my actual birthday so I better not get stuck there again I mean it; 3) Hello the Seattle Storm won the damned WNBA championship in case you hadn't noticed; 4) Spent some quality time with my new galfriend last night out in the country on her farm and it's really nice to hang with someone again, though you know, it's still hard, but it's good too; 5) I mowed the grass today even though the humidity was 1 million but you know how much I love mowing grass which is a lot and I bought a lilac bush and an early amethyst beautyberry bush to plant in the yard not sure where yet but it makes me happy; 6) Tomorrow I will help friends build some wooden sides for their flatbed 1/2 ton truck which of course means that I will finally be getting some wood action with my tools and man I miss the heck out of that; and 7) The dogs are snoring right now and it's quiet outside and some storms kinda came though so it will be a good night for sleeping in this house that I love like no one's business.
Enough of this chitchat, I need to write words that make sense even though no one in our damn government is going to read them. Goodnight to you.
9/05/2010
The morning birds are singing
Oh, it's one of those nights. So be it. Are you still the boy who rocks my world?
Like the stars above.
Like the stars above.
8/23/2010
you and your anchor tattoo
I'm tired and unclear why I am still awake right now. Been kind of a whirlwind of various/sundry and it's not really going to stop anytime soon. No, it's not going to stop until you wise up. Or so they say.
The good thing is that I am busy and things are good and lots going on and some potential romance and the hot weather is breaking and the kids on campus make me feel old because they are so young and I am not sure where the summer went and canoe trip coming up and texas and football season and the cicadas are still loud loud and I'm trying not to think about you and failing most of the time and the moon is out tonight and a storm is coming in and this:
The good thing is that I am busy and things are good and lots going on and some potential romance and the hot weather is breaking and the kids on campus make me feel old because they are so young and I am not sure where the summer went and canoe trip coming up and texas and football season and the cicadas are still loud loud and I'm trying not to think about you and failing most of the time and the moon is out tonight and a storm is coming in and this:
8/07/2010
You're doing it perfectly
Aye. It's been a week. Do you follow my twitter? I hate how that sounds. Nevermind.
Anyway, yes. It's been a bit of this and that. What do you want from me? What do you want from me?
If loving that is wrong, I don't want to be right. Sorry.
Second thing. This.
I will end on this. Is it the end of the world? Maybe. Why not pretend. It's late. I'm tired.
Part II.
Who doesn't love angsty music on an August night?
Anyway, yes. It's been a bit of this and that. What do you want from me? What do you want from me?
If loving that is wrong, I don't want to be right. Sorry.
Second thing. This.
I will end on this. Is it the end of the world? Maybe. Why not pretend. It's late. I'm tired.
Part II.
Who doesn't love angsty music on an August night?
6/23/2010
5/12/2010
I raked the springtime across your sheets
I am obviously obsessed with this right now:
- This Tornado Loves You - Neko Case
- This Tornado Loves You - Neko Case
3/24/2010
12/27/2009
We all churn inside
I recently re-found this gem and remembered how much I love it.
Consider the hummingbird for a long moment. A hummingbird's heart beats ten times a second. A hummingbird's heart is the size of a pencil eraser. A hummingbird's heart is a lot of the hummingbird. Joyas voladoras, flying jewels, the first white explorers in the Americas called them, and the white men had never seen such creatures, for hummingbirds came into the world only in the Americas, nowhere else in the universe, more than three hundred species of them whirring and zooming and nectaring in hummer time zones nine times removed from ours, their hearts hammering faster than we could clearly hear if we pressed our elephantine ears to their infinitesimal chests.
Each one visits a thousand flowers a day. They can dive at sixty miles an hour. They can fly backwards. They can fly more than five hundred miles without pausing to rest. But when they rest they come close to death: on frigid nights, or when they are starving, they retreat into torpor, their metabolic rate slowing to a fifteenth of their normal sleep rate, their hearts sludging nearly to a halt, barely beating, and if they are not soon warmed, if they do not soon find that which is sweet, their hearts grow cold, and they cease to be. Consider for a moment those hummingbirds who did not open their eyes again today, this very day, in the Americas: bearded helmetcrests and booted racket-tails, violet-tailed sylphs and violet-capped woodnymphs, crimson topazes and purple-crowned fairies, red-tailed comets and amethyst woodstars, rainbow-bearded thornbills and glittering-bellied emeralds, velvet-purple coronets and golden-bellied star-frontlets, fiery-tailed awlbills and Andean hillstars, spatuletails and pufflegs, each the most amazing thing you have never seen, each thunderous wild heart the size of an infant's fingernail, each mad heart silent, a brilliant music stilled.
Hummingbirds, like all flying birds but more so, have incredible enormous immense ferocious metabolisms. To drive those metabolisms they have race-car hearts that eat oxygen at an eye-popping rate. Their hearts are built of thinner, leaner fibers than ours. Their arteries are stiffer and more taut. They have more mitochondria in their heart muscles -- anything to gulp more oxygen. Their hearts are stripped to the skin for the war against gravity and inertia, the mad search for food, the insane idea of flight. The price of their ambition is a life closer to death; they suffer heart attacks and aneurysms and ruptures more than any other living creature. It's expensive to fly. You burn out. You fry the machine. You melt the engine. Every creature on earth has approximately two billion heartbeats to spend in a lifetime. You can spend them slowly, like a tortoise, and live to be two hundred years old, or you can spend them fast, like a hummingbird, and live to be two years old.
The biggest heart in the world is inside the blue whale. It weighs more than seven tons. It's as big as a room. It is a room, with four chambers. A child could walk around in it, head high, bending only to step through the valves. The valves are as big as the swinging doors in a saloon. This house of a heart drives a creature a hundred feet long. When this creature is born it is twenty feet long and weighs four tons. It is waaaaay bigger than your car. It drinks a hundred gallons of milk from its mama every day and gains two hundred pounds a day and when it is seven or eight years old it endures an unimaginable puberty and then it essentially disappears from human ken, for next to nothing is known of the mating habits, travel patterns, diet, social life, language, social structure, diseases, spirituality, wars, stories, despairs, and arts of the blue whale. There are perhaps ten thousand blue whales in the world, living in every ocean on earth, and of the largest mammal who ever lived we know nearly nothing. But we know this: the animals with the largest hearts in the world generally travel in pairs, and their penetrating moaning cries, their piercing yearning tongue, can be heard underwater for miles and miles.
Mammals and birds have hearts with four chambers. Reptiles and turtles have hearts with three chambers. Fish have hearts with two chambers. Insects and mollusks have hearts with one chamber. Worms have hearts with one chamber, although they may have as many as eleven single-chambered hearts. Unicellular bacteria have no hearts at all; but even they have fluid eternally in motion, washing from one side of the cell to the other, swirling and whirling. No living being is without interior liquid motion. We all churn inside.
So much held in a heart in a lifetime. So much held in a heart in a day, an hour, a moment. We are utterly open with no one, in the end -- not mother and father, not wife or husband, not lover, not child, not friend. We open windows to each but we live alone in the house of the heart. Perhaps we must. Perhaps we could not bear to be so naked, for fear of a constantly harrowed heart. When young we think there will come one person who will savor and sustain us always; when we are older we know this is the dream of a child, that all hearts finally are bruised and scarred, scored and torn, repaired by time and will, patched by force of character, yet fragile and rickety forevermore, no matter how ferocious the defense and how many bricks you bring to the wall. You can brick up your heart as stout and tight and hard and cold and impregnable as you possibly can and down it comes in an instant, felled by a woman's second glance, a child's apple breath, the shatter of glass in the road, the words "I have something to tell you", a cat with a broken spine dragging itself into the forest to die, the brush of your mother's papery ancient hand in a thicket of your hair, the memory of your father's voice early in the morning echoing from the kitchen where he is making pancakes for his children.
- Brian Doyle - Joyas Valodores
Consider the hummingbird for a long moment. A hummingbird's heart beats ten times a second. A hummingbird's heart is the size of a pencil eraser. A hummingbird's heart is a lot of the hummingbird. Joyas voladoras, flying jewels, the first white explorers in the Americas called them, and the white men had never seen such creatures, for hummingbirds came into the world only in the Americas, nowhere else in the universe, more than three hundred species of them whirring and zooming and nectaring in hummer time zones nine times removed from ours, their hearts hammering faster than we could clearly hear if we pressed our elephantine ears to their infinitesimal chests.
Each one visits a thousand flowers a day. They can dive at sixty miles an hour. They can fly backwards. They can fly more than five hundred miles without pausing to rest. But when they rest they come close to death: on frigid nights, or when they are starving, they retreat into torpor, their metabolic rate slowing to a fifteenth of their normal sleep rate, their hearts sludging nearly to a halt, barely beating, and if they are not soon warmed, if they do not soon find that which is sweet, their hearts grow cold, and they cease to be. Consider for a moment those hummingbirds who did not open their eyes again today, this very day, in the Americas: bearded helmetcrests and booted racket-tails, violet-tailed sylphs and violet-capped woodnymphs, crimson topazes and purple-crowned fairies, red-tailed comets and amethyst woodstars, rainbow-bearded thornbills and glittering-bellied emeralds, velvet-purple coronets and golden-bellied star-frontlets, fiery-tailed awlbills and Andean hillstars, spatuletails and pufflegs, each the most amazing thing you have never seen, each thunderous wild heart the size of an infant's fingernail, each mad heart silent, a brilliant music stilled.
Hummingbirds, like all flying birds but more so, have incredible enormous immense ferocious metabolisms. To drive those metabolisms they have race-car hearts that eat oxygen at an eye-popping rate. Their hearts are built of thinner, leaner fibers than ours. Their arteries are stiffer and more taut. They have more mitochondria in their heart muscles -- anything to gulp more oxygen. Their hearts are stripped to the skin for the war against gravity and inertia, the mad search for food, the insane idea of flight. The price of their ambition is a life closer to death; they suffer heart attacks and aneurysms and ruptures more than any other living creature. It's expensive to fly. You burn out. You fry the machine. You melt the engine. Every creature on earth has approximately two billion heartbeats to spend in a lifetime. You can spend them slowly, like a tortoise, and live to be two hundred years old, or you can spend them fast, like a hummingbird, and live to be two years old.
The biggest heart in the world is inside the blue whale. It weighs more than seven tons. It's as big as a room. It is a room, with four chambers. A child could walk around in it, head high, bending only to step through the valves. The valves are as big as the swinging doors in a saloon. This house of a heart drives a creature a hundred feet long. When this creature is born it is twenty feet long and weighs four tons. It is waaaaay bigger than your car. It drinks a hundred gallons of milk from its mama every day and gains two hundred pounds a day and when it is seven or eight years old it endures an unimaginable puberty and then it essentially disappears from human ken, for next to nothing is known of the mating habits, travel patterns, diet, social life, language, social structure, diseases, spirituality, wars, stories, despairs, and arts of the blue whale. There are perhaps ten thousand blue whales in the world, living in every ocean on earth, and of the largest mammal who ever lived we know nearly nothing. But we know this: the animals with the largest hearts in the world generally travel in pairs, and their penetrating moaning cries, their piercing yearning tongue, can be heard underwater for miles and miles.
Mammals and birds have hearts with four chambers. Reptiles and turtles have hearts with three chambers. Fish have hearts with two chambers. Insects and mollusks have hearts with one chamber. Worms have hearts with one chamber, although they may have as many as eleven single-chambered hearts. Unicellular bacteria have no hearts at all; but even they have fluid eternally in motion, washing from one side of the cell to the other, swirling and whirling. No living being is without interior liquid motion. We all churn inside.
So much held in a heart in a lifetime. So much held in a heart in a day, an hour, a moment. We are utterly open with no one, in the end -- not mother and father, not wife or husband, not lover, not child, not friend. We open windows to each but we live alone in the house of the heart. Perhaps we must. Perhaps we could not bear to be so naked, for fear of a constantly harrowed heart. When young we think there will come one person who will savor and sustain us always; when we are older we know this is the dream of a child, that all hearts finally are bruised and scarred, scored and torn, repaired by time and will, patched by force of character, yet fragile and rickety forevermore, no matter how ferocious the defense and how many bricks you bring to the wall. You can brick up your heart as stout and tight and hard and cold and impregnable as you possibly can and down it comes in an instant, felled by a woman's second glance, a child's apple breath, the shatter of glass in the road, the words "I have something to tell you", a cat with a broken spine dragging itself into the forest to die, the brush of your mother's papery ancient hand in a thicket of your hair, the memory of your father's voice early in the morning echoing from the kitchen where he is making pancakes for his children.
- Brian Doyle - Joyas Valodores
12/02/2009
And a pinch of apathy!
So I am back from a trip to the country. Re-acclimating myself to being a bitch in the city. Nah, I'm kidding. I'm a ray of sunshine these days. As a result, I have decided to cancel my trip to Cleveland this weekend because I really can't deal with traveling again, need a weekend to recover/deal/cope/etc.
I'm starting to feel as if I have nothing left to say on this blog. I can't really bear to discuss pop culture or politics - those topics are already a 24/7 intrusion as it is. Plus also I'm sort of not feeling like talking about myself much either which was like 99.5% of the content of this blog I think so that leaves me with trying to find & stretch .5% worth of content unrelated to me/myself/I.
Puppies! Kittens! Rainbows! Infinity! Ennui! Torpor! Etc!
I'm starting to feel as if I have nothing left to say on this blog. I can't really bear to discuss pop culture or politics - those topics are already a 24/7 intrusion as it is. Plus also I'm sort of not feeling like talking about myself much either which was like 99.5% of the content of this blog I think so that leaves me with trying to find & stretch .5% worth of content unrelated to me/myself/I.
Puppies! Kittens! Rainbows! Infinity! Ennui! Torpor! Etc!
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