enfin's reality, music, writing

red lettre

about this time last year i compiled all of my favorite lyrics from a bunch of random songs into a letter- which i then entitled, red lettre.  it’s sort of a stalemate because i plan on adding more, though i know i won’t be getting to it anytime soon- especially if i haven’t gotten to it in a year.  i particularly like this lettre because it’s intended for many folks, and its open to interpretation.

Dear Valentine,
Sometimes I feel like I’m digging a hole, and the walls are cavin’ in behind me, so I made up my mind, don’t need to think it over, I’ll move on to another day, to a whole new town with a whole new way where the music is played by the mad man, but let me just say, darling I love you, I loved you like the moon and stars, but I’ve got an angry heart. And it don’t take no Sherlock Holmes
To see it’s a little different around here, Everybody’s got their box doing what they’re told and we’re all buying into something we don’t want a part of, so I’m just getting tired of this scene. The other day I was taking a walk, when I saw you pass by, and when I saw you smile I cried all night until there was nothing more, my friends they just don’t understand and they’ve said its gotten out of hand, my cryin’ and all. You’re makin’ me crazy, I go out of my way everyday just hopin’ that I catch you walking down the street, but you’re just a real nowhere man, sitting in your nowhere land, making all of your nowhere plans for nobody. I wish I would have had the nerve to ask you to stay, now I spend my nights asking, “Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements?” That doesn’t cut it, it keeps me guessing, and I don’t like that, but I like you, Honey Pie, this is what I want to say, “Let’s be those lovers that walk by, holdin’ hands two by two, because I’m bein’ honest as I can, I could use a little bit of company.”

My momma once told me, that there ain’t no rest for the wicked, and it got me thinkin’, if there ain’t no rest for the wicked, what about the good? You know I wish I could keep being the girl whose always avoided falling in love, but that’s not the case today. Tomorrow I’ll ask you is it me you been lookin’ for while you listen through the cemetary trees, then I’ll say come on drive a little, nothing is forever, and there has to be something better than in the middle. You tell me its cold, your whisper gets softer, as we wander through that crowded space, we’ll head to the edge of the water where we’ll spill our guts and name our fears, then you’ll tell me goodnight. Back home I realize your smile is the most genuine thing I’ve ever seen, it sets my heart aflame, the mention of your name my stomach will fill with butterflies, I want to get close to you, I want to know you better, and someday you’ll have me within your reach. I’ve been told one too many times from boys like you, Hit the Road Jack and don’t you come back no more, they tell me to take a permanent vacation, but something tells me with you it’ll be different. To that I say REJOICE! You don’t have to believe me though. You do what you want, if you want to rock you’ll rock, if you want to roll you’ll roll, only as long as you feel like you’re in control. That’s what I like. Can we run through the grass and all the reeds and meet oh pretty please, there I will tell you what no one knows about me. I pick pockets just to give it all back, I’m a little bit insane, I’m never sure what I’m looking for but it’s always on my mind, maybe all I want is to be loved- in fact I wish my daddy had loved me more. Would you rather me lie to myself? I’m going to burn down those bridges and rip out them stitches. You told me I got good at tellin’ stories when I left and stumbled out the door. I told you to eat so many lemons because you’re so bitter. We’ve got everything down to a science so I guess we know everything- right? What is it about our fights that make me love you more?

I want to dance with you in style, let’s dance for a while, in the daylight where anywhere feels like home, someday, yeah yeah, someday I’ll hug you and I will forget my country, where the rest of the world awaits. Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away, you told me, “I’m not half the man I used to be, there’s a shadow hanging over me,” I want you to know that I’ll take you for what I see, because what I see is what I get. You thought love was such an easy game to play? I thought that Mr. Pitiful had learned his lesson. I promised that I won’t let you down, I won’t break your heart, and I really just want to know you. I want to know your life, that interesting thing we call life, tell me about yours, so we can be friends too. I know you’re scared of loving me but- You know love is better than a song Love is where all of us belong so don’t be shy just let your feelings roll on by. Years ahead, while we’re lying together you say to me, you know, we don’t have the power but we never say never. You tell me that if I try leaving I can’t hide standing under these stars they know everything, they’ll know where you are,
I’m in my head, I’m all turned around with it and they’re shining down their light to bring you back again
Back where I can find you. I know what I am, You know I hear you saying ” I’d sell off my savior for a set of new rings” Don’t sell out, money isn’t everything- and that’s something you taught me. To most a week apart doesn’t seem like a feat, but I miss you more than I should, I know you’re scared that I’ll get over it- but honestly, that’s part of it all. I fear you won’t fall- trust me it’s easy to say, but its a lot harder to feel this way.

I say to you, “OH HONEY PIE You are driving me crazy, I’m in love but I’m lazy, so won’t you please come home, Honey Pie, you are driving me frantic, sail across the atlantic to be where you belong.” You said, “Do you believe what you’re sayin’?” Yeah right now, but not that often. By the time the buzz was wearing off, we were standing out on the sidewalk, with our tattoos that looked like rings ,in the hot Nevada sun and they won’t fade I’ve got you to thank. Take that trip with me to Blueberry Hill.

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writing

i tried to tell you but my pride…

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anger spills from my veins that pump the thick bellacose blood to all vital zones of my weakened anatomy. my eyes flicker with rage, not something entirely uncommon of me. you are not what i initially thought. and yes, i presumed that you were someone who cared, someone who had a purpose. but its obvious, after weeks of silence, that i was dead wrong. instead of being pleasant, you’ve witnessed me being hostile. new concept, right? as if you really noticed. with words exchanged, through vivid imagery, and concepts of only an allegory, my heart pounded at a pace i cannot bare to speak of. i, awaited your responses, as loyally as a canine to his master. and i awaited for years and years, and on top of those years, even more years. time passed, and i rarely grew tired of waiting, because, upon meeting you, i knew you were the sort of person who required a lot of waiting around for.

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enfin's reality, Uncategorized

surrealism

there are a few things i am currently wishing for:

one. i’d like my life to be similar to Amelie Poulain! of course, that won’t happen because no one will be my Nino! but i’ll still wish for that.

two. i’m hoping that my ink sesh will be re-confirmed.  that’s the only reason why i want to go to quebec…

three. i want meredith to stay with me forever and ever.

four. i want to talk to someone, tell them who i am, and hear about who they are.

five. i’d like to write a really good story.

six. i kinda want the weekend to hurry up and get here!

im feeling: tired, happy, ready for some permanent ink, memoria teneo, anxiety fleeting, therapy session tomorrow, artsy artsy with forts and movies and food and laughter.

i want to write…i have this itch. when i was making my way home from norms this evening i wrote this wonderful story in my head.  it was lovely and had a good ending too, but then i was disenchanted when i heard gunshots in the ghetto and panic overtook my body.  luckily i didn’t hear anymore, made my way upstairs, got undressed, took a long shower, watched amelie, and fell asleep on the couch.  i do recall the story, but its late, and seeing as i got four hours of sleep yesterday, i’d really enjoy getting some shut eye tonight.  perhaps i’ll write tomorrow, perhaps i won’t. we’ll see how the day goes.  but i would in fact, love to get another piece up.  my kitty sassy (not trout) is with me on the couch and she is purring loudly. the french soundtrack of yann tiersen is quietly playing in the background. lights are off, but the glow of this screen and the glow of the menacing street lights make the room just as bright as it would be if i had the heart to go turn on the fluourescent light above.  bed…right. that’s where im headed. could use some seltzer and advil.

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& i repent all those messages you sent clear as day but in the night- oh i couldn’t get it right

the weather brought me down today- melancholy rain, dreary fog, both characteristics i typically like, but not today.  i was sad, and i remain sad.  i’m feeling anxious, and my therapist for the past 8 or so months has told me in recent visits that she doesn’t like that i’ve become anxious.  i feel bad she doesn’t like that, but its hard for me not to be anxious.  we tried to pin point what it actually is that i’m experiencing anxiety over and in short, sans the psychological jargon, we don’t know.

19 minutes after expected sleep time, i’m laying in my bed, timber timbre steadily playing in the background, multiple candles burning, mind racing, rain falling.  i’m sad, i keep thinking of memories i’d like to bury in the archives within the catacombs of my mind.  the rain is making me cry…silently of course.  i can smell sulfur from the matches i used to light everything burning in this quaint room of mine.  the night has a tint of orange to it, cars seem to be rolling by at a snail’s pace, the streetlights are flickering, and i can hear the neighbor’s bird chirping, this action being the outlier of course.  i loathe this feeling of sorrow, and given my current situation, i have no one to lean on.  even the cats have departed my room amidst the tears.  a friend from the past contaced me today, it was certainly a surprise.  when we talked though, i realized just how jaded i am.  not that i was shocked, just a bit disappointed in myself, i suppose was the primary reaction, with undertones of even more sorrow.  there are constant metronomes in this house- everywhere i go, something is there keeping me on task, something in the back of my mind…all the time.

i hate my tendencies.  how sans metronome, i have no such thing as concentration.  i hate how i have mood swings- frequently, i hate how people call me crazy because my ideas are radical, i hate how often i am perceived in the wrong light.  i hate how i burn bridges when im bored, how i lose friends easily, and make them rarely.  i hate how i get bored, because supposedly, intelligent people aren’t supposed to experience that phenomenon.  i hate how easily musicians relate to my real life.  i hate how my real friends are strewn across the country (oh this stupid nation). i like being rational. i like how easily i am inspired.  i like my imagination and how there are scenarios always playing out. i like how i stay up late to watch the rain. i like how i admire from afar, opposed to alongside.  i like my scrutiny- my sense of importance- how i have a difficult time being comical, how im a cynic, but how i wish i were a romantic.

i don’t think love exists, and unlike most, i’m not sad because of this conclusion. timber timbre is playing at SPACE in april, and Dark Dark Dark is playing at SPACE in march, so that gives me something to look forward to. why am i still up?

why am i still writing? i can’t even contemplate right now.  i want to go dance in the rain, but then i think, for what purpose? well…none seeing as i cant enjoy that with anyone at this day in time. time..another thing that bothers me, and yknow what else really bothers me? falling in love with someone that you know you have no chance with at all. and the sort of falling in love i’m talking about is the worst kind- through prose. someone should inject reason and rationality in me- although the long needles are the ones i can’t look at.

i’m feeling: unfortunate, melancholy, tired, interested, hopeful for a better tomorrow, a sore throat on the rise, and eyes slowly shutting.

let me write passionately sans intereference.

enfin.

as a last minute post-script: sure, I respect death, but I definitely dislike it, especially when it appears in my dreams.

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