I am still numb, yes. Thanks for asking.
I put myself here, so I have no one but myself to blame for how exposed I feel. Bravado increases. More gaurds go up. And I repeat myself in conversations. People look at me with 'yeah, you already told me that' expressions because I wrote about it here and they read it here and how would I know? Voyeurs to my exhibitionism. Yin and Yang.
Went to some local pub/bar with my mom today to see some friends of hers play. When their set wuz over they came over to talk with my mom and they wouldn't even look at me. I seem to remember they used to get all "hello little one" to me, but since I played at that open mike thing they were at they don't seem to want to acknowlege me. Strange.
LEFT ALONE IN DESERT, THIS HOUSE BECOMES A HELL.
THIS LOVE BECOMES A TETHER. THIS ROOM BECOMES A CELL.
MOMMY DADDY BELIEVE, SEND HIM BACK TO ME.
HOW LONG MUST I SUFFER? DEAR GOD I'VE SERVED MY TIME.
THIS LOVE BECOMES MY TORTURE. THIS LOVE MY ONLY CRIME.
MY ARMS TOO WEAK TO GRIP. MY EYES TOO DRY FOR WEEPIN'. MY LIPS TOO DRY TO KISS.-pj harvey
god i love her melodrama
I left the bar when I saw someone I knew in the crowd and I didn't want to have to make irritating conversation of 'how are you i'm good that's good'. "I'm going now, ma. See you later." Cold and dark out and I wanted a Christmassy vibe so I walked over to the Christmas tree place and picked out a tree. $11.39. I paid, got it all bundled up, hugged it to me and I walked home with it. Stopped at the ice rink to use the washroom. (girl walked in, about 5:30, carrying evergreen tree, beatific or deranged smile on face, went into washroom. Then left again.) And the kilometre or so walk home I cooed to the tree and hugged it close. I love the smell of Christmas trees! I walked the trail along the inlet. Which I usually absolutley refuse to do after dark, but I wuzn't freaked out cuz having a big tree held to my chest gives a grand sense of safety. It would soften an attack. Whether by crazed woods-dweller or grizzly bear.
Listening to this Hole song, "Best Sunday Dress" right now. It is so stupid, and so beautiful. If I didn't know way too much about this fucking band I would be able to be objective and slip into this song fully, willingly. But I don't have that... luxury. This is a fucking joke. One of these spin-off wanna-be prophet efforts of Courtney fucking Love's. Those who have Hole's "Pretty On The Inside" (1991, debut album) know there is, among the cacaphony of that release, some little rip-off splurge/half cover song noise with the buried sing-song background Fleetwood Mac swiped words "..put on my best Sunday dress...". So little miss prophet/profit goes and builds a whole song around that one line. Though there is nothing wrong with that (I guess), it's just plain cheesy.
Then on 1994's "Live Through This", the song "Asking For It", she sings "I will tear the petals off of you. Rose red, I will make you tell the truth." And on this piece of shit work of self-righteous pretentiousness "Celebrity Skin" she goes and writes a whole fucking song called "Petals". With what as it's chorus? "I will tear the petals off of you... " Sounds like a girl at the end of her creative well of inspiration to me. Lame.
I wish I didn't know so fucking much about that psychotic woman. I may be able to enjoy this song (sunday dress) if I didn't, for example, know how much it is stolen. Listen! For Christ's sake, this is not your work! Shit, this woman is a vampire. I implore you, find that Kurt and Courtney documentary. Don't make me waste any more time on her here. Put this song next to that film and it sounds like a big messy musical "Yeah I did it, and I'll do it again. Whatever it fucking takes" reign of terror announcement. Boycott Courtney Love!
I'm tired. It's four in the fucking morning. Someone I don't know just sent me an e-Christmas card. With my name on it. Some 'dear friend dear chaara' thing. Since there is some idiot who keeps sending me URLs via icq I wuz ready tell him to fuck off, but it wuzn't him, it wuz this seemingly benevolent Christmas card.
Yesterday I found this live recording of Jeff doing the Smiths' "The Boy With The Thorn In His Side". I love, love, love it when musicians I love love other musicians that I love.
And in this he says "These people helped me... stopped me.. from... slashing my wrists..."
That would definitely be the Smiths.
"How can they see the love in my eyes and still they don't believe me?"