Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Babe Ruth's Gay Brother: Gabe Ruth.

Please don't remind me, put your past behind me. It shines so bright it blinds me, I wish that this would end. And I am not fine, last night I saw you online - your screen name used to be mine - why can't we just pretend? And she said nah nah... I just forgot you were there... I just forgot you were there...

Worried this evening about my long lost pal whose name begins with F. Hoping from the bottom of my heart that the glass-candy consuming man in her life isn't making her too sad. Got your back, you sparkling little star. Wall-E awaits...

Spending good hours writing. Plugging away like a trooper. Getting my head sorted and praying for calm for a lengthy period. Born to feel down, but fighting against it.

Sleeping on the floor lately. Rummaging through pages of books at 3:30am whilst eating peanut butter sandwiches. Sleeping at random hours with the help of tranquilisers. Vivid dreams and alf alfa beans. Mental abortions. Cutting the sleeves off my hoodies and wearing them like I'm suddenly cool. Practising ventriloquism. Sleeping with the cat on my chest. Listerine. Hating Letterman. Brave faces. Text messages and drunk driving. White lies and flipper babies. Wishing on stars like a tragic. Hating myself and loving the world. Trading empathy for apathy. Microphones. There's a toaster in my room but I eat sandwiches. Art. Nirvana box-sets. Rekindling long lost hates. Nostalgia tastes like your mouth. Never seen such blue eyes. Thoughts of pebbled beaches. Two chords on the guitar. Life goes on. Blink 182. Planning a Christmas concert playing only Anti-Christmas songs. Lyrics. Girls with curly black hair and flawless white skin. Nudity. Feeling unwelcome in my own home. Praxis. Laughing my ass off at bullshit lyrics and narcissistic idiots. Cheese and relish. Pickles. Hopeless romantics. Happy endings. Births, Deaths and Marriages. Plain Janes. Memory loss from binge drinking. Pornography. Hit lists and geffen records. The Pixies. Super heroes and homeless folk. Younger sisters of casual acquaintances. Spectacles. Fan made videos on youtube.com. Sorrow. Rollercoasters and water-slides. Humidity. That time I had oral sex with a cheerleader in a grandstand. Broken noses. Titanium knees and brand new ligaments. Failed careers. Doing things the right way. Back roads to obscure towns. Dairy farms. Octuplets. Trimming my pubes. Sick of the economy. Saturation press. Loneliness, birds and orange roses. Dead heroes. Slave labourers. Communism. Climbing trees and jumping out. Supernova. Facial hair. Absinthe. Suicide. Love. Goodnight.

How good is the Dutch Rudder?

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