Tuesday, 23 June 2009
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Currently
Rockin' the Suburbs
By Ben Folds
see relatedI Am A Sentimental Bastard
I am addicted. I am a poet. I am the gecko. I am the poem that I wrote in a fit of spasms. I am currently exhausted although I've nailed six hours of sleep the past two nights. I am a big fan of Vicadin. I am a supporter of gay marriage. I am the kid who glued your lips shut when you were napping. I am watching House season 2. I am eating granola bars. I am an ex-insomniac, well not really without the medicine I still would be, I've experimented. I am obsessed with these three words, "sex and candy." I am a nostalgic bastard. I am a sentimental bastard. I am a manipulative bastard (are we slipping into a rut?)
I have discovered that every man is truly an island. I have discovered I have only one real friend, his name is Joey and when you talk to me I can't talk to him. I have discovered that when you eat anything with poppy seeds before a drug test it will say that you are addicted to opium. I have discovered "Zap" (the vintage store) to be my new safe haven. I have discovered that college girls are easier to get then high school girls (being the fact of experience). I have discovered that I do not like myself very much, it's okay you don't either. I have discovered that I am incredibly obnoxious/sarcastic, but I like this. I have discovered the solution to problems, the key is being numb.
If I was in heaven I would call hell and ask for a roomate. If I was in New York I would taste little depression. If I was a girl you could call me Carmen-lita, but you can call me that now. If I was a lover I would ask for cyanide. If I was as innocent and naive as I was last year I may still have been nice to you. If I was a dreamer, I would be in the current state of mind I am in now. If I was smarter I would forget crushing on someone and simply go for the "finer" things in life. If I was a devil I would very much adore my tail. If I was an alcoholic I would attend AA meetings and claim free car benefits since I assumed the AA was really AAA.
I like cemetaries. I like abandoned churches. I like a girl, and unfortunately for me I always will. I like running to nowhere until I feel as if I am about to collapse. I like taunting ulta-religous people. I like being Justinius Maximus. I like the taste of Vampisol. I like it when people smoke cigarettes in a creative space. I like sour gin and vodka. I like driving to nowhere. I like rewriting my past in dreams, temporary fix. I like the Academy. I like it when Delmy laughs at my jokes. I like touring Liberty Place late at night when I can't sleep. I like it when Ernesto comes with me for coffee and root beer. I like the Electric Factory. I like Lewis Carroll. I like drawing random shapes then taking Rorsch tests on myself (if Rorsch is even how its spelled).
I don't believe in love. I don't believe in God. I don't believe in all this religious crap. I don't believe in the afterlife. I don't believe in love at first sight. I don't believe in living in the moment. I don't believe in behaving in ways people expect you too, come on where's the fun in that? I don't believe in drugs, not entirely. I don't believe in Bush, yes his supporters have long gone died, but the stench of his stay in the White House is still strong. I don't believe I am a good influence. I don't believe in fate. I don't believe in destiny. I do believe that life is what you make of it, so what I think really doesn't matter.
Lovely Pam
Lovely Pam by the Prince Street Cafe,
carrying milk bottles brought on Market Day.
Listen up now, cause' she's coming this way,
she's crossing the roadside to come hear us play.
Lovely Pam will hold you dear in her arms.
Hold you close until you cannot feel your own warmth.
But she'll make you better, far better then now.
She'll make you question your own wants and hows.
Lovely Pam in a elevator, she'll make you feel better.
Yes she'll make you wonder why life is so short,
she'll make you wish you can never leave her gaze.
But she'll go on, you'll move on, both of you to better things.
Bye Pam, we'll miss you.
But we'll be moving on to better things.
Lovely Pam, you've saved us,
but you're moving on towards much better things.
I Don't Need You
You say you want a lover, what do I not have?
I could be your lover, the best one you could ever have.
But I cannot be your lover, what will become of love?
I feel like a fool for wanting you, wanting all that I love.
You're so cold to me, this I do not understand
You say you care for me, well do I need to give a damn?
But you don't want me anymore then I want you now.
I've learned a thing or two, and one of those things is that I don't need you.
"Get a hint," they tell me, she treats you like trash.
At this point we're certain that you're the best she'll ever have."
But maybe that's what love is, taking forms of abuse.
But here's the difference I don't need to take it from you.
You're so cold to me, I never wish to understand.
You say I'm so close to you, now I try to give a damn.
But you don't want to love me, anymore then you do.
I've grown up darling, I'm learning to not need you.
You're so cold to me, well two can play this game.
You say we're good friends, well I don't give a damn.
You may want me far more then I want you.
I've moved on darling, and I don't need you.
Yelow Palace
I'm lost, lost in the Yellow Palace down the hall.
My thoughts, if I find them will I still be lost?
Lost inside the Yellow Palace down the hall.
Yellow Palace
Yellow Palace
I am here.
Dreaming at the bottom of the stairs.
I am confused, and comfort I have not seemed to find.
My hopes, if I recall they were with me all this time.
But I have lost me, lost myself in the Yellow Palace down the hall.
Yellow Palace
Yellow Palace
I am here.
Dreaming at the bottom of the stairs.
Why can I not be as I once was?
Why can I not catch my own mind?
Am I leaving myself behind in an empty hall?
Yellow Palace
Yellow Palace
I am here.
Dreaming at the bottom of the stairs.
Mojave Rain
They tell us that the future is looking bright,
maybe that's what it looks like if you're in the Vegas nights.
And you're sipping pina coladas with the President,
while the war outside the window is his belated present,
to us all.
This is what politics in Nevada looks like in the rain.
We were writing ballots in the Mojave rain.
And the President was drunk out of his brain.
So we sobered him up some in the Mojave rain.
You were scoping for love on the Sunset Strip,
and I was singing a song about how love is a trip.
And you were holding a bottle of Cognac by a shrine,
of your favorite heroes, be they dead or alive.
And this is love for all the artists who long to believe.
In something more then a war torn country.
Perhaps I am pessimistic, perhaps it's all the same.
Don't we wish we had love in the Mojave rain.
I was painting daisies pink in the backseat,
of a remodeled Hearse with a bible beneath my feet.
And you were driving us along, calling out the sights,
and then we saw the famous Las Vegas lights.
This is what politics in Nevada looks like in the rain.
A mix of love on the sunset strip plus a bullet to the brain.
And if we only hoped for the President to maintain,
a decent appearance we may well have been in the Mojave rain.
Drowning in Ovaltine
I was sitting in a purple abyss, surrounded by dreamers and their technicolored kids.
I was lying beneath an orange sky, the horizon was green, the clouds had eyes.
Walking the streets was sheer foolishness but I had to try, since the clouds had eyes.
And I saw the Yellow Submarine, I saw Abbot and Castello swimming in gasoline.
I saw Jimi Hendrix buckling at his knees, and I saw John Lennon as he waved to me.
Justinius Maximus drowned in ovaltine.
I followed the yellow brick road in front of McDonald's, I bumped into the bum from Seattle.
He looked like a snake, but the cars turned to bunnies, and Donnie Darko called me honey.
Walking the streets, was I out of my mind, the sky was purple, but the clouds had eyes.
And I saw Freddie Mercury screwing Madonna, I saw Marilyn and Kennedy drinking Vodka.
I saw Jimi Hendrix walking in a haze, I saw John Lennon get high for days, oh my eyes, what a time.
Justinius Maximus drowned in ovaltine.
What's Missing
What's missing from this picture of a boy in the bathroom?
With painkillers in his jacket pocket and a chapter from Saint Matthews.
Is Mother Mary missing or is it Ellen White?
Is this the reason some children cannot sleep at night?
What's missing from this film of a child in the street?
With blood shot eyes and tears flowing down their cheeks.
Is a loving parent missing or is it inner desire?
Is this the reason some children love to play with fire?
No-doz, put me to sleep.
Vicadin is my dream.
The Gecko lived on Main Street.
Holes
This world is full of holes, and we may fall into one at any time unknown.
We've already lost most of our souls, maybe they slipped through the holes?
I want to fall inside a hole. I want to die but not be unknown.
Who would long to die forgotten? Who would want to die tomorrow?
Maybe I am already forgotten? Maybe today is tomorrow? We'll never know.
This life is full of holes, holes we call familiar landscapes places we can control.
Yet all that we have seen is dwelling within our souls even as we fall through the holes.
I want to be inside a hole. I want to die and be unknown.
I want to be unknown in a hole. I can accept dying alone.
The Religious Revival in Miss Lucille Court
Miss Lucille in the office, with a cigarette and a bottle of wine.
To take her mind off the all the places she would rather be.
Papers stacked up on her desk, no one ever said life was fair now.
No one ever said that work was ease, ease enough to please.
Miss Lucille in the back room now, with a line of cocaine to snort down.
To take her mind off where she is, a stuffy office building behind the city.
The phone keeps ringing on her desk, morally she's ridden of this decision.
No one said you could take it easy since easy is the way if we were all daydreaming.
Here she comes with her banner held high, a sign of regrets and crooked alibis.
No one knew she would come back around, Mary Jane must have made her a daughter somehow.
Miss Lucille Court in a state of panic, her pack of Camels is no longer thriving.
Her fingers twitch for that quick fix now, and the business day is far from over.
Miss Lucille are you still with us now?
It Is I
Hello World, it is I.
I as in the unfortunate alibi.
I as in the boy who got high.
I as in the high beneath the sky.
Oh they cry, yes I cried.
Goodnight World, it is I.
I as in I just thought I'd say goodnight.
I as in the lonely dreamer.
I as in the one who tried.
I as in the one who cried.
Oh they get high, yes I cry.
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