1) sometimes i wake up, wishin i could sleep forever, i spend my whole life tryin to pull myself together...but you already knew that. i see the trees late at nite, their branches blacker than shadows. i see them again in the morning covered with silver drops of rain. and each time im just a spot on the sidewalk under all this endless endlessness.
2) i took too much robitussin for a cough that hasn't started yet. oops. who's got the crayons?
3) green light, 3 PM, 7-11...i roll in lookin like a crushed pack of cigarettes. im rockin insane unwashed hair that wont stay under my hat and a t-shirt from an ivy league college where i used to unload all my second and third rate E. outside, the turnpike is a migraine-bright, bad dream blur as the city's neverending shitslime circus pours out the holland tunnel bootyhole. i've been around the world but somehow all roads always lead me back here, to dirtee jerzee.
4) if songs were lines in a coversation, the situation would be fine.
5) the pope is dead. god save the pope: i remember being outside the towering edifice of the school, my five year old arms thick and useless in my winter coat as my legs went as fast as they could. i was running away but hadn't gotten very far. i looked over my shoulder. the nuns were stabs of black against the red brick. the sky hung brightly over the hated building like a gigantic golden bell that i was never going to be allowed to ring. "you! you! you!", i thought, as three of them made their way over to me, "die! die! die!"
6) "Thou ouest God a death"--Shakespeare, Henry IV, Part II.
7) "That woman deserves her revenge...and we deserve to die, but then again...so does she."--Budd, Kill Bill, Volume II.
8) i am writing a letter to bill gates, i am writing a movie starring two famous bloggers, i am writing rhymes in my head on the elevator (going up, never going down), i am (re)packaging my symptoms for mass consumption, i am dreaming of a new world order, a new country, a new art, a new way of saying, "FUCK THE POLICE."
9) ...the idea was to have an electronic corkboard. so the three of us could keep track of all the art i thought we'd be making. instead, the blog itself became the art: we became denizens of our own design, citizens of the blogosphere, which continues to surprise and inspire us on this, year THREE of our Lord, in which everything old is new again and as;dfjas; jfas' dfjas'djfas'dfj
10) sometimes being TRUE is a little much; but my real life love is never rattled by the rush.
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