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Monday, November 29, 2004
It's November 29
Topic: nothiing iin partiicular
Mood:  down
Now Playing: C'est la vie -- Vanessa Carlton
It's November 29. For those of you who know what that means, you know why I'm down. Yes, the magic number 18. Minus me.
That's OK with me ... and I understand and all ... but it kinda hurts, you know? I've been kicked out of it all. Like I said, I understand and all ...
But off of that depressing subject. No one wants to hear my grief. I went to the library -- got two new books (I know! Books I haven't read! Omg!) and two old faves. The Gospel According to Larry, by Janet Tashijian, is awesome. And anything by Carol Plum-Ucci is great. The She, What Happened to Lani Garver, The Body of Christopher Creed, all classics according to me. All depressing as hell though. At least I didn't get Hard Love this time. I almost did.
The new ones, I am Morgan le Fay, by Nancy Springer, and Big City Cool, a short story collection. I haven't started them yet.
This new album is inspiring me to write. I have a brilliant idea based off of two of her songs combined. I really need to find someplace to send my stuff. I could be rich if people would just publish what I write. But nooo, all they want is mainstream or poetry. OK, I can do poetry, but it's not my thing. Short story, fiction, some slice-of-life occasionally, lots of crazy people stories. I do stuff that you don't see every day.
Apparently there isn't a friggin' place anywhere that I belong. Not Boston. Not Philly. Not Charleston. Not D.C. Not Richmond. Nowhere. I fit in just fine, but I don't belong. I'm an alien (lol Natalie), one of the people everyone looks at and thinks "freak," one of THEM.
White Houses. I love this song. It hurts to listen to it, though. Kinda comes a bit too close to home.

Maybe I'm a little bit over my head
I come undone at the things he said
And he's so funny in his bright red shirt
We were all in love and we all got hurt
I sneak into his car's cracked leather seat
The smell of gasoline in the summer heat
Boy, we're going way too fast
It's all too sweet to last

It's alright
And I put myself in his hands
But I hold on to your secrets in white houses
Love, or something ignites in my veins
And I pray it never fades in white houses


Except it wasn't summer. And it wasn't who you think it was, because I didn't know. I don't care if I'm talking in riddles. If no one gets it, that's fine. I don't care.

My first time, hard to explain
Rush of blood, oh, and a little bit of pain
On a cloudy day, it's more common than you think
He's my first mistake

Maybe you were all faster than me
We gave each other up so easily
These silly little wounds will never mend
I feel so far from where I've been
So I go, and I will not be back here again
I'm gone as the day is fading on white houses
I lie, wrote my injuries all in the dust
In my heart is the five of us
In white houses


There is way too much in this song. Eh, everything fades. Even vampires grow tired.


Love and Kisses, Ducki at 5:56 PM EST | Permalink | Share This Post | Post Comment |

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