another sleepless day

in keeping with the theme of "more yellow birds" and also because i am addicted to t-shirts, i wanted to inform my three readers that one of my shirt.woot shirts came last night, and i'm donning it proudly today.

http://shirt.woot.com/Derby/Entry.aspx?id=50579

in this case, the poor night owl (myself, or the wearer) would like a few less yellow birds.

also, for those of you wondering where the "more yellow birds" current title of this blog comes from, please see this sparklehorse song.

i am thinking, perhaps, i need to explore further the theme of "yellow bird" t-shirts, and make it my new collection hobby. and possibly also new t-shirt rule, to curb my rampant t-shirt purchasing habit. so, let's just say, that for the next year (excepting any new firefly-related shirts that come out) i am only allowed to buy t-shirts with at least one yellow bird on them. i think i can stick to that.

coincidentally, did you know if you type "yellow bird" into the search bar at threadless, you get ZERO search results? this needs to be remedied, folks.

a birthday preamble

twenty seven
times i start
and stop, to write
this poem.

to mark the end
of a year,
the beginning
of a year.

it is hard
to type on a
blackberry
with long
thumbnails.

those are one
of the changes,
one
of the new goals
i set for myself:

maintain growth,
or progress,
even if it's
only as small
only as slow
as a thumbnail.

it's harder than
it seems, you know.
working in a warehouse
makes it hard to do
several things:

wear nice clothes
to work.
keep your nails
nice.
don't come home
covered
in cardboard.

i'm doing two
of the three,
and that's a good
average. anyway,

i refuse to pack
boxes in heels.

this one is by request

haha, i have no idea what to write here, i just know that apparently i need to. but then, i suppose i don't ever really know what i'm going to wind up writing on here, i just unload. and hey, i have time to kill before my lunch break, although i should probably be doing that by actually working. shhh, don't tell.

so i've been watching castle, and you know what? i like that castle and beckett haven't done the whole get-together thing. i like the few kisses they've had and all the teasing, and significant glances. it makes me keep watching. y'know, i quit watching chuck after season three. chuck & sarah together? well, that got boring - and even casey - EVEN ADAM BALDWIN HIMSELF - couldn't keep me interested enough to stay caught up. so, i'm just gonna say i hope castle and beckett don't ever get together until the series finale, because as much as i love nathan fillion, if even ADAM BALDWIN HIMSELF can't keep me interested in a show, then dear nathan doesn't have much of a chance either. maybe i'd still be watching chuck if adam baldwin were the main character. but then it wouldn't have been "chuck," it would have been "adam baldwin kicks ass and that's all that matters, stare at him for this time-slot while he does cool shit," and i would, by golly. i so would. that show would NEVER get old.

anyway, that's my update on where my thoughts are at currently. maybe i'll post more later, maybe not.

another monday, another shuffle

123 goodbye / i love you more in death / than i ever could in life
123 all sigh / when the dollar is young / and the year is new
me and the full wolf moon / will be over you / unto the nighttime
i dream for you 12 sparrows pretty in a row
1 and 23 eyes open to the risen scarecrow of scarecrows
with his mind all blown / down those hay-lined roads / to his farmer's throne
it was happy 123 / it was sad 123 / we were happy once you and me / when we were sad
123 goodbye by elvis perkins



this is the story of victoria lee
she started off on percodan and ended up with me
she lived in berkeley till the earthquake shook her loose
she lives in texas now where nothin' ever moves
victoria you talk so low that no one else can hear
unless you point your megaphone directly at their ear
this is the story of victoria lee
she started on rohypinol and ended up with me
you'd like to think they're you friends, but they're not your friends
and in the end a friend's the one you'll never know, oh don't you know?
you'd like to think you're groovy, it's your movie, you see through me, but it's true
and in the end you'll know, victoria don't go. victoria, victoria don't go.
victoria by the old 97's



i watch you stumble through the morning
i watch you stumble home at night
silhouetted by a sun without sunlight
i've watched you walk straight through an evening when you're laden with the day
and the light of the moon, it only gets in your way
from a bedroom window i was anyone
and the street i look upon is my runaway
but i'm connected to the places i don't feel connected from
i'm connected to the place that i don't feel like i'm from
this is the kind of town where everyone knows each other
and everyone hates that they know each other
and no one's getting any younger
from my bedroom window i was anyone
every street i look upon could be a runaway
so move on here now
you don't belong here now
you don't belong you'll never belong
you don't belong here now
disconnected by idlewild

Find more artists like VERSUS at Myspace Music

walking down the yellow brick road you left a clue
crumpled up the photograph you had with you
giving up the suitcase life and leaving your wife
there's a tunnel at the end of the light
don't know what to say to you standing on the window sill
don't know what to say to you now you swallowed your last pill
don't know what to say to you firing flares into the night
and everything is alright
crashing the afterglow in dingy whites
bleeding from the seven year itch, you lie in it
bathing in the milk of the past and drowning fast
just pretend you're colorblind and you'll be fine
cursing like a four-letter word
phony like a three-dollar bill
sell the ticket to your heart
baby, you're a one-way street
crashing the afterglow by versus



there are beads that wrap around your knees
that crackle into the dark
like a walk in the park, like a hole in your head
like the feeling you get when you realize you're dead
this time we ride rollercoasters into the ocean
we feel no emotion as we spiral down to the world
and i guess it's worth your time
because there's some lives you live and some lives you leave behind
it gets hard to explain
the gardenhead knows my name
leave me alone, for you know this isn't the first time
in fact this is twice in a row
that the angels have slipped through our landslide
and filled up our garden with snow
and i don't wish to taste of your insides
or to call out your name through my phone
for the glory boys at your bedside will love you
as long as you're something to own
follow me through a city of frost-covered angels
i swear i have nothing to prove
i just wanna dance through your tangles
to give me a reason to move
but to take on the world at all angles
requires a strength i can't use
so i'll meet you up high in your anger
of all that is hoping and waiting for you
gardenhead/leave me alone by neutral milk hotel

that night inside the fog

Download The Clientele - Policeman Getting Lost

and i see the blue-eyed surfer boys gone home
to the west coast
and the clerk street morning
haunted by the figures of your friends
but if you get too tired
you can lay your hair across my pillow
the darkness coming quickly
at this time of year

i am in love with this song today. and they don't have it on youtube, and i can't find an mp3 of it anywhere on the internet, so i had to use supload so i could share it.

it fits my mood perfectly. couldn't sleep again last night, didn't fall asleep until 4-something. woke up at 6:30. had a strange dream, odd people in it, odd premise. tangled cords and blankets, trying to avoid or evade or both, a crashed car, blood everywhere, my hands all red. crying out in the dark, but no one was there. sitting on asphalt, wrapping myself up in a blanket to try and stop all the bleeding, but it wasn't working. needed other hands.

hate dreams like that.

supposed to be saving money. bought three t-shirts yesterday, because i felt like it. i need new real clothes, but i keep buying t-shirts. t-shirts and jeans.

avoiding the circleback, is what. it's so hard, with all those other hands reaching, and i'd love to grab, but you'd just drag me down, see. don't want to go back to that. not gonna go back to that.

alaska and sled dogs. a houseboat. move away. make something, somewhere. somewhere not here. should drive up to EA's offices in bountiful and tell them they should hire me. that i'd be a good investment. spend the drive back trying to convince myself the same thing.

hope collin's nerdzine project takes off. got a few good articles ready to go. trying to think of a good name for my music review column. kicking around a couple ideas but none i like enough to share. which means they're not good enough. waiting for deadline panic mode to put it in high gear. ever the procrastinator. the deadline lifeline. oh, irony.

you smell good. didn't want you to smell good. knew you would anyway, it's just... ain't nothin' but a thang, see.

don't want a thing. i want a something.

but things and nothings are so easy to stand on, you see. or at least, good enough to make you feel like you're standing.

shuffled it twice, just to make sure

no joke, this was the first one that came up:


there's nothing to do so you just stay in bed
oh poor thing
why live in the world when you can live in your head?
mmm when you can go out late from monday
till saturday turns into sunday
and now you're back here at monday
so we can do it all over again.
and you go aaah ah ah ahahah aaah ah ah ahahah ahahah
i want a refund
i want a light
i want a reason
to make it through the night, alright
and so you finally left school
so now what are you going to do
now you're so grown up
yeah you're oh oh oh oh oh so mature oh
monday morning by pulp


heard that i met me once before
was it me or just don't you care
once more ignore
as i wrap me around we
i'm never quite there at all
so which me should i put on
to go out driving in my car
feeling so sore i took me out dancing
three of me or more
insane i'm sure
that living inside me
are several girls galore
once more ignore
i'll wrap me around we
i'm never quite there at all
insane i'm sure
we're living inside me
several girls galore
several girls galore by my bloody valentine


you were sewn to the ground, so you cut the wires of lead
you swim against the tide, yet you drowned in the sky
you whispered to make a sound, and you crawled to reach the ground
you held your head up high, yet you duck beneath the clouds
you are on your way
on your way by the album leaf



"Schizophrenia is Better than being Alone" by Lovecapades from Stephanie Fowers on Vimeo.
(this is that band i wrote about that my friend kristi (the blonde one on the couch) plays drums for. the one with the crappy british-accented lead singer.)
you come undone
i guess i'll forward you a lovesong before we run
no paper hearts or feeling dumb
a song for all the good-for-nothings
as i sing into the sky
reminiscent melodies and pounding fists go by
do nothing for the lullabies
hello, oh won't you tell me something
why do you cry, why do you lie, why do you miss our last chance for long goodbyes?
a sullen tale with ragged seams
what's left of our faded dreams?
schitzophrenia is better than being alone by the lovecapades



and far out on the ocean
with a colored nail i'll force the whale
we'll tattoo all our crimes across his back
had to see him swim up to the harbour
of the city with the shiver in the buildings as we drowned
i said throw me in the fire now, c'mon
i said throw me in the fire now, c'mon.
pistol dreams by the tallest man on earth

also, i'm commander shepard, and this is my favorite song on the internet

finally, friday

ye gods, i am so glad this week is nearly over. couldn't sleep much AT ALL last night, 'twas moighty frustratin', aye, moighty.

don't ask, and i won't tell. mostly because i don't know the full answer. i've been trying to step it up and listen to more musical females, since that mystery mix i made for jonathan. maybe i'd have made a better one now. i like to think so.

i need to find a new hairdresser, methinks. one that doesn't keep trying to turn me blonde. i said i wanted blonde bangs. BANGS, not all my hair. blonde - like white - bangs and a few pieces around my face, and dark brown for all the rest of it. and she goes, ok! and i wound up with yellow bangs, and yellow highlights through so much of the dark brown that i just look blonde again, like i was over the holidaze. frustratin'. i have an appointment with her next week, and i kind of just want to cancel and pay an extra $50 and get it done here in draper at jagged edge, because i liked them the last time i was there, and they did EXACTLY what i said. meh. hair. i like to think i'm above being so picky about something like my hair, but seriously, this last one was really disappointing.

i am thinking the bass guitar will be my birthday present to myself. my little brother has also kindly offered to teach me what he knows about the drums, since we have a kit sitting around the house that i might as well be using. although, like i've said before, i just don't think i'm coordinated enough for percussion. and what is bass after all, but percussion guitar? (i realize i'm probably generalizing greatly, here, but c'mon.) percussion guitar that someone with short fingers can play. i dunno why i didn't pick up on this sooner.

in other news, well, not so other, but... in news, i have finally set up a last.fm account/profile thingamajig, so if you've got one, find me and add me. it's just chelicious84. some other jerk stole chelicious. what is up with that? i was doing "chelicious" even before fergie came out with "fergalicious." just sayin'.

i keep getting twitter update texts from my cousin and from nathan fillion. i am thinking i should unsubscribe, and i don't know why i haven't already, because every time my phone dings, i get my hopes up, and then they just wind up crashing back down because, honestly cousin, i don't care about the aggies. and i don't care about college sports in general, and i don't care about lawyering or hunting, and that is all you ever tweet about. the nathan fillion ones are kind of entertaining, though. i might leave his. maybe. and honestly, who doesn't want to have nathan fillion pop up randomly in a text message? crazy people, that's who.

this no soda thing is killing me. i have been hoarding my dr. pepper chapstick in pockets of like every pair of jeans i own. i am pretty sure they must put crack in it or something. i am jonesing bigtime. i think i need to up the ante on the weight-loss thing and go back to south beach or whatever. i am cutting out soda, maybe sugar altogether (barring truvia in my morning tea, of course, but that's not sugar, so it doesn't count,) any processed carbs, red meat, and cheese. the last one will be hard. cheese is like, my greatest weakness. you don't even know. i even used that in a job interview, once. they asked me what my greatest weakness was, and i honestly said cheese. and i got the job.

maybe i will just pretend that i'm chinese, because they don't eat cheese. and i heart chinese food. and hey, there's no cheese in sushi, and sushi is my second greatest weakness. maybe this will be easier than i thought. does tuna count as red meat? i hope not. i love me some maguro.

anyway, that's about it from me for today. see? i can be a cheery sort of blogger. it doesn't always have to be so maudlin and melancholy. although, sometimes, maudlin isn't a bad thing.

my maudlin career - camera obscura

cobblestone cobblestone

i had a strange dream last night. or, a good dream, but good in a strange way? i don't know how to describe it. i blame the fact that i fell asleep listening to merzbow. not that i was trying on purpose to fall asleep to it, merzbow's not really "fall asleep to" music. it was more intended to be "lying awake, staring at the ceiling" music. i didn't know what i was in the mood for last night, other than i just wanted some white noise "tortured between stations" as i once called it. something to drown out the thoughts, but something that i didn't feel obligated to pay attention to. and seriously, merzbow is perfect for that. so thanks go to jonathan for pushing my boundaries with that stuff, because i needed it.

anyway, i had a dream i was in ireland? ireland or canada or somewhere, there was a little girl who kept mentioning south dakota, but i know we weren't in south dakota. on this cobblestone beach. the water was really, really clear and still. now that i think about it, it was probably a lake, not the ocean. i could see the cobbles clear down under the water about 30 yards out from where we were standing.

we were standing, this guy i didn't know and i. or i did know, but couldn't place him. dark hair, kind of long, but not LONG-long. a grey golf cap. scruffy face. he didn't really look at me much. he had a younger sister who was with him. maybe she wasn't a sister. just a girl about 7-8 who he had with him, he was supposed to look after her. (she's the one who was talking about south dakota.) we were looking at the cobbles and talking about where they had come from, what they were planning to do, if they had a place to stay - or if i had a place to stay?

there was a small pub, just up from the beach, on one of those grassy green hills, the perfect little picture of what you'd expect a little shoreside pub in a tiny town in ireland to look like. the whole dream was washed in the colors of cobblestones, greys tinged with color, but not overtaken by it. the grass was a grey-green. it must have been stormy, or at least overcast, for the light to be that way. but then there's always been a strange correlation with the way my mind will color the settings in my dreams, as if the color were the thesis or mood of the whole dream. that is often the case. at any rate, the cobblestone colors of the dream made me feel detached, disjointed, coolly collected from the scenes unfolding before me.

we go inside the pub, the tables are small, low, bulky but kind of unstable. like they were made out of driftwood. accompanied with rickety chairs. it was a long, low, narrow room. i remember a fireplace, but i can't recall any warmth or color coming from it, though i know there was a fire. again, the pervading greyness.  most of the light was coming in from the windows, which is to say there wasn't much light, since it was so grey and dark outside. or perhaps it's just to illustrate how dark the interior was, if any light at all from outside was making a difference.

it took a while for my eyes to adjust, to take in the room. we sat at a table near the door, this man and girl and i. we were joined by a woman in a nightgown, of all things. like it's perfectly normal to be wandering around in a nightgown at a pub. her hair was mousy brown, long and thick, falling past her shoulders. in fact, it could have been a beautiful chestnut brown, but again, the grey wash made it mousier than perhaps it was. her face was unremarkable. plain, normal. no striking features, no shocking features. blue eyes that were more watery grey than blue. lashes, brows, matched the mousy brown hair. she sat at the table with us, pulled one of the chairs over, sat on it sideways, and whipped out a notebook, in which she was writing an account of her latest tryst with this young man in the golf cap who wouldn't look at me.

the things she recounted seemed ridiculous and far-fetched. enough to make a sailor blush, as it were. an irish sailor, at that. surely not, not this mild-mannered, shy, mellow boy sitting at the table refusing to look at me. but he was looking at me, i noticed. as this plain crazy nightgowned woman sat there reading aloud torrid and tawdry details, he just looked at me, unblinking, unemotional. his face blank, but open, honest. like i was supposed to write or read something off it. a blank page to be turned or scribbled on, and i wasn't sure which.  so i did nothing. i sat there looking back at him, glad that the younger girl had gone off to the bar or back outside or something, so she wasn't there to hear all of this. the nightgowned exhibitionist was still regaling, and i was feeling quite uncomfortable about it. i looked over my shoulder, to the right. my back was to the fireplace, the way i was sitting, and i noticed in the far, dark corner, an upright old piano. looking like it was made from the same sort of driftwood the table and chairs were made of. the bench slanting at an odd angle, like the piano was abandoned to the corner because no one could sit and play without sliding to the floor and bashing their head on the wall.

i stood up and walked over to the piano, trailing my fingertips over the keys, but not disturbing them. i love old pianos. i always have. they make me feel... reverent, or respectful, kind of in awe when i think about the people who played them, or the songs that may have been pounded out or coaxed gently from them. old pianos are haunted with songs, in a sense that i don't really get from any other instrument. i wonder about the significance of the piano. anyway, as i'm tracing the greyed yellow keys with my fingers, as if i'm going to divine some past secrets through contact with the thing, someone comes up behind me.

i turn, and it's a man, not the man at the table, but a taller man, lighter hair. he puts some sheet music down on the piano and motions for me to sit, asking me to play it. his hand suddenly heavy, hot on my shoulder as crumble onto the bench and reach for the music, hoping it's not embarrassingly difficult. or embarrassingly easy and i make it difficult by my inexperience and my novice musicianship. it's handwritten, the deliberate filling-in of the quarter and eighth notes careful and complete, with pencil, like bubble sheets from grade-school tests. the music was easy enough to read, i panicked less. but at the same time, i noticed the room was a lot more full of people than i'd thought. my nerves began to gnaw in that hollow at the back of my stomach. the light-haired man was humming the melody of the right hand, as if that was supposed to make me feel less nervous. I could have played the right-hand easy enough, but the stretch for the chords in the left-hand were a key and a half too long for my short fingers, and i knew if i played, it wasn't going to be pretty. i begged him to let me just go back to the table, but he kept insisting, and wouldn't move his hand from my shoulder.

the dark-haired man came up behind me and offered to play the song instead, with a request for a, uh, small favor in return. i obliged and was saved from embarrassment. the rest of the dream is just images now, he touched the keys and it seemed like the fire was stoked, roared to life. he played beautifully, a warm glow spread, not from the fire, but from the piano. a bright, warm yellow pushing the grey away. patrons crowding around the piano corner, watching his hands rushing over the keys.

i retreated to the doorway, opened it. the tall man with the light hair looked back over his shoulder at me, watching me as i left quietly and shut the door. it was storming now, the wind whipping water in my face.

and then i woke up. one earphone still in, the merzbow still on repeat. i picked up my phone, it was 4 am. didn't go back to sleep, but i turned the music off.

redoubled

ok, i'm willing to admit that i've been slacking off in the actual posting department this month. like, as much as i would love for youtube links and the monday morning lyrical forecast for the week ahead and talking about music to count - they don't. i confess.

and, frankly, at the moment i'd rather be posting something here and avoiding my inventory count. so if it means i have to actually write something, then i will totally do it.

so, here's a thing: house hunting and car hunting are annoying. i'm just gonna say it. why do we, as adults, think that the more important something is, the more complicated it needs to be? wasn't it da vinci who said that simplicity is the ultimate sophistication? i'm all about justifying minimalism to some extent, but why can't we minimalize things that are more important? just throwing that out there, to the void. oh, void, you're so snuggly and flattering, this is why i like you so much.

oh! before i forget, the elvis perkins in dearland album is actually really fantastic. i bought it. i should have bought his ash wednesday album back in the day, but i didn't, so to make up for it i bought this one. loving the song "hey." i think i have a thing for songs with "hey" in the title. the pixies' "hey," for example. probably my favorite pixies song. or at least in the top three. "hey you" by pink floyd. "hey jude," the beatles... okay, maybe i have a thing for 4 songs with "hey" in the title, but still. they're four pretty great songs.

dilemma, void. i have a dilemma. so i've been secretly/not-so-secretly planning this escape to the oregon coast for a week to celebrate my 27th with some much needed time off of work, and time alone to refocus, and ocean, because ocean fixes everything. let's face it, i do need a break. and we all know how much i am in love with the oregon coast. but, here's the dilemma - maybe i need to find a car and move out more than i need a vacation. maybe moving out would seem like enough of a vacation to stave off my compulsion to run away to the seeeeeeea and i should use the vacay monies for the car and the place. of course, that is contingent on me actually finding a place i want to stay. which right now has got me feeling SOL.

in happier news, the thermals are coming to play in slc in june, and i am totally looking forward to it.

and now for something completely different: last night i had a dream that i was a hobbit. an eskimo hobbit. and i was going around these ice floes up in the arctic and trying to save this whole pod of whales that had been trapped in this giant iceberg, and i was climbing all over this iceberg with these little sculptor tools trying to carve the whales out of the ice before they all died. (obviously being frozen in the ice hadn't killed them, but it was going to. this is me rolling my eyes. oh, dream logic. what a funny thing you are.) and my mom was there? and she kept trying to tell me that it wasn't important, and i was getting all cranky because it WAS important, and i was just a tiny hobbit and couldn't she see that if she helped me instead of talking and negating my feelings about things, we'd save the whales faster?

i woke up and was like... huh. bed earlier tonight. though we all know that me going to bed early doesn't mean i'll be going to sleep. which is frustrating me super so muchly much lately. oh well. good thing i've always been a pretty nocturnal person. maybe? maybe that it's good, that is.

"i'll be arriving," also on the EP in D album. so good.

anyway, this was me writing for the writing's sake. and i think i did almost too good of a job at skirting the edges. like i said to someone else this morning, i just don't have the emotional bandwidth to carve a path into the middle right now. but i probably should, soon. those whales aren't gonna save themselves. and they aren't gonna last forever.

chains, chains, chains - elvis perkins in dearland

another monday mawnin' shuffle

i look inside myself and see my heart is black
i see my red door and must have it painted black
maybe then i'll fade away and not have to face the facts
it's not easy facin' up when your whole world is black
no more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue
i could not foresee this thing happening to you
if i look hard enough into the setting sun
my love will laugh with me before the morning comes
i see a red door and i want it painted black
no colors anymore i want them to turn black
i see the girls go by dressed in their summer clothes
i have to turn my head until my darkness goes
paint it black by the rolling stones


in the darkest of days in my daydreams there
there in the eye of that tempest
you're nearer to me 21 years
you've been here every morning
21 holes as you pull
but they're fading now
i'm still there waiting
how could i be the last to know
when they told me where the fool had gone?
oh i was but the youngest one
up there on the hills they'll find me
oh another side of gold you rushed
oh i could never fight them all
another story of the one you lost
and i wanted to run over
i wanted to take over
i wanted to run over your love
gold rush by basia bulat


mrs. jones and i were dreaming of the moon
on wednesday afternoons without a cloud
and the mirage of a suburb in the rain
on a train and drifting down
oh miss lloyd your smiling eyes are in my mind
holidays and nights away and quieter times
what's in the game that we both play
walking our dogs in the rain?
anyway
anyway
and we think about the things that we have done
what our love's become as we drift down
and our glowing eyes are filled with silent rooms
alleyways and evenings that we've found
and it's a five day morning here as i am in the rain
and i don't know if i'll see you again
again, again, again, again
five day morning by the clientele


i never locked the door
i never stood to gain
you could a founded a state
between the love and hate
you coulda landed a plane
and if you need a taste
you gotta grow your own
to do something right
keep it up at night
unplug the phone
and you can pile it on
and i will tunnel through
i keep a little book
where i describe the ghosts
with their size and shape
from shark to ape
now i propose a toast
and on the second floor
we write it down in code
you gotta punch the clock
you gotta polish the rock
so it doesn't erode
and you can pile it on
and i will tunnel through
you can borrow my vibe
make a killin' too
and never ask me why
don't pervert the lie
with a little truth
you gotta testify
you can borrow my vibe
make a killin' too
never ask me why
but i can answer you
here's a little clue
borrow my vibe by the soft drugs/tw walsh


make the go away, you seem so low
they seem so low, make them go away
they're always shopping, never think to stopping us
when they meet us down the road
frequently for squeezing, anything too pleasing them
when they drop us in our homes down the road
you tear your childhood down from the cheekbone
you sound me down and you tell me you'll never
spend days unfazed not to tell me "i love you"
and they might not be playing solo
and they might not be playing for the team
what team?
and so they're moving out in circles
to know themselves a life and pleasant dreams
whose dreams?
baby, don't go
we'll miss you so much
this is your home
baby don't go
(s)mothering and coaching by guided by voices

re-collecting

change is a measure of time, Barbour says.
and i linger at the side of my road
to watch your instant
expand into the infinity of my motion.
of my course forever altered
because you moved me.

 I have been reading my old poems today. The after-Andy poems. I was looking for... something, inspiration, lines to jerk awake again the need to write something that I could share with other people, here. It's funny, to me--Not funny-"haha" but funny-"curious," the places inside me that those poems touch. The strands of memory they find so easily, pluck and pull. I divide my life into befores and afters of significant life-changing... turmoils? Emotions?

It was my first real, broken heart, you see. And even after all these years, the centers of it are still that tiny bit tender to the touch. I see myself, at 19, in those lines. Was it really almost 8 years ago? It was. In ways it feels like yesterday, in others it feels like several lifetimes have happened since then.

For as stupid as 19 year-old Chels was. For as silly and shallow and self-unsure, she didn't flinch when it came to baring the open wound of her emotions. She was less... cautious... about pouring the blood from those veins into those many, many notebooks. She was less distracted by computer, xbox, work, being an adult, etc., and spent all that time just writing. Up all night, unloading onto paper all the things she couldn't say to anyone else. And of course some of those lines are ridiculously amateur - hell, the stuff I write now is still ridiculously amateur most of the time - but there are others that hit me, that hit truth. And that is what poetry is, isn't it? The truth of one's experience. Of one's ingestion of the world.

you, the axis, 
the fulcrum, 
of my past and growing.

my life in measures, 
before or
after the coda
of you.

 The coda was a good metaphor for it. She was a careful writer. Did it so often, her words seem more particular than mine do these days. Part of the reason I made that resolution to write for an hour each day, and to read a new book every week, to get back to that wordpool that I used to be able to drown myself in, or at least to dip my experiences in and have them come up soaked in some bright, better understanding.

set fire to these walls, 
and hope to scourge
the pestilence of your leaving.

Isn't that how it is? A few more broken hearts later, and I still relate to that line. Still know exactly what she meant by that. That hole that someone leaves truly is a disease, it makes you sick, could kill you some days. I'm not here to say "look, look at what I did, isn't it great?" No, I'm here because I was pondering the changes, the billions of instants that have brought me to this version of myself, to the point where that Chels seems like a wholly different, distinct, stranger of a person to me.

This is what growing up feels like, maybe. Curiouser and curiouser.

So, from now on, I am just going to write. I am going to write and then post it and not stop and think about whether or not I need to edit myself, because I don't. Anything worth doing is worth doing half-assed, as Jonathan says. And looking back through those old poems was testament to me that it's true. Despite how bad those old poems are as far as artistic merit goes, when it comes to data capture, they are far more valuable than I ever could have imagined. And that's what this bloggy-type journally dump-thing is for. Personal data capture that happens to be where other people can stumble upon it. Which I am ok with. It's my vested interest in being more open and honest with everyone, and not just selective groups.

(Although I still won't tell my parents about this blog, because I have too many swears in it, and I am trying to keep their coronaries and aneurysms at a minimum. So ppbbbbth.)

Anyway, song lyrics, for today's song "I'll Be Here When You Wake" by The Reindeer Section

leave my bed warm and i'll breathe in your smell
we shouldn't tell a single soul you know it's right
i want to shout it out it's killing me to hold
hold it in my head when there's barely room for me
and i say your name in the darkness like you could be there
and i miss you more when i'm coming down and i fear the door
leave my brain in knots that i'll never quite unfurl
i can't make head or tail of this fizzing on my tongue
both my hands are tied so i can't pick up the phone
even if i wanted to, by god i don't
and i say your name in the darkness like you could be there
and i miss you more when i'm coming down and i fear the door

shufflagellation

what do i do when my love is away

(does it worry you to be alone)

how do i feel by the end of the day

(are you sad because you're on your own)

no, i get by with a little help from my friends, 

mmm, get high with a little help from my friends, 

mmm, gonna try with a little help from my friends

do you need anybody?

i need somebody to love

could it be anybody?

i want somebody to love

would you believe in love at first sight?

yes i'm certain that it happens all the time

what do you see when you turn out the light?

i can't tell you, but i know it's mine

with a little help from my friends - the beatles

will you join me?

i want to live these years again

there is no dignity in losing a friend

we were younger and thought our time would never end

and if i try too hard i miss you

and if i miss too hard i find you

and we have ten years gone to get through but it all feels over

do you have the time? inclination? does it feel too right?

do we have to fight complications just to feel alright?

we spent our years dreaming but our dreams were misleading
and now we're through

please forgive me i won't invite you in next time
but did you change at all when you witnessed the crime?

stand your ground now and make sure it's a happy home

and while your choice of friend was touching was it reason for adjusting?

and when you go to sleep are you wondering if it all makes sense now?

do you have the time? inclination? does it feel too right?

how can we continue with better things behind you?

do we have to fight complications just to feel alright?

we spent our years dreaming but our dreams were misleading
and now we're through

and i hope you've found what you're after

leave another town, visits in the country were over all too quickly

and i hope we meet before we're older, have a chance to speak

we spent our years dreaming but our dreams were misleading
and now we're through

witness - the delgados

you're standing by the grey ice water 

out in the wind above the ground out in the weather

you had yourself a crazy lover

becoming frozen trying hard to forget her

you got a job up in alaska

its easy to save what the cannery pays

cause there ain't nowhere to spend it

at home on a boat, it's a fish trap

you took the path of least resistance

on the phone cutting out talking

short to long distance

you're standing by the grey ice water

out in the wind above the ground out in the water

you had yourself a crazy lover

become froze trying hard to forget her

you too the path of least resistance

on the phone cutting short to long distance

at home on a boat at home, it's a fish trap

on the arctic blast

grey ice water - modest mouse

i fell asleep in the silence before the street fights the fire

free in the world that you've given

lay in the sound the water still calls, still calls

afraid of the dark that surrounds me

hide in the dirt of the ground

free in the wind that surrounds me

i'm not afraid to sleep in the night,
not afraid to sleep in the night

free like a bird of the holders

holding the wake of the sun

i know the road that you send me

i know the way it leads to home

real like the bones in my body

real like the flesh that covers the grave

it's real like the flesh that covers the grave

wait for the guards that you send me

before i'll show myself

wait for the storm that comes to me

maybe i'll just change my mind

plea for the will of forgiveness

i'm not afraid to say i was wrong

i was wrong

maybe i won't

so long, so long

free - mazzy star

turn yourself around, you weren't invited

good good things happen in bad towns

runaway, runaway you want it

runaway anyway you want it

what did you do to your back hips

soft ones, curled lips can't get 'em back

junk jump off too much time for

old beats, cold beats, i'm just cold meat

runaway, runaway you want it

runaway anyway you want it

oh all alone

i've got a call from the bear

gonna take all his honey honey

done, all alone

i've got a call from the bear

gonna take all its honey honey

runaway, runaway you want it

runaway anyway you want it

what what what what

honeybear - yeahyeahyeahs

The Best of New Music March!

Now, before this gets started, I want you to keep in mind that "new" doesn't mean "recently released." No, in fact, new means: new to me; or "recently discovered." At any rate, here, for your listening pleasure and in alphabetical order by artist/band, are the best 18 songs (in my opinion) of the 88 mp3s that I downloaded at the beginning of the month...

Bury This by Amy Millan


Two by The Antlers


Gold and Warm by Bad Veins


Range by The Balky Mule
Now, this song is so cool and hip and awesome that it doesn't have a video yet (that I could find) so go give it a listen on The Balky Mule's myspace page.

Every Goliath Has Its David by The Boy Least Likely To


If The News Makes You Sad, Don't Watch It by Broken Records


Orange Shirt by Discovery


Shampoo by Elvis Perkins in Dearland


Police and Thieves by Get Back Guinozzi


Come Monday Night by God Help The Girl


Underage by The Hidden Cameras


Now + Again by It Hugs Back


Spirited by Laura Gibson


Never Had Nobody Like You by M. Ward


Lions by Pacific Theater


My Will Is Good by Port O'Brien


Wicked Blood by Sea Wolf


A Hundred Hearts by Swimmers

the perfect EQ setting

I have finally gotten the perfect equalizer setting in my iTunes at work. I had to document this. For posterity. And also for myself, when my iTunes randomly resets and loses it. Also, so I can do the same on my one at home.

P.S. the playlist in the background is New Music March!!! Of which I will be excited to share the gems that I unearth. So look for the full report of Best Ofs sometime soonish.