Sleepy Hollow was just a phase...
2004-08-24 14:34:16 ET

I came across this little gem of a story while stocking shelves at the book shop today. I was so taken my the language that I had to stop and read the whole thing. It's so simple and short but altogether lovely. It brought tears to my eyes.

THE WIFE ~ Washington Irving

"The treasures of the deep are not so precious As are the concealed comforts of a man Lock'd up in woman's love. I scent the air Of blessings, when I came but near the house, What a delicious breath marriage sends forth-- The violet bed's no sweeter!

I HAVE often had occasion to remark the fortitude with which women sustain the most overwhelming reverses of fortune. Those disasters which break down the spirit of a man, and prostrate him in the dust, seem to call forth all the energies of the softer sex, and give such intrepidity and elevation to their character, that at times it approaches to sublimity. Nothing can be more touching, than to behold a soft and tender female, who had been all weakness and dependence, and alive to every trivial roughness, while threading the prosperous paths of life, suddenly rising in mental force to be the comforter and support of her husband under misfortune, and abiding with unshrinking firmness the bitterest blasts of adversity.

As the vine, which has long twined its graceful foliage about the oak, and been and been lifted by it into sunshine, will, when the hardy plant is rifted by the thunderbolt, cling round it with its caressing tendrils, and bind up its shattered boughs, so is it beautifully ordered by Providence, that woman, who is the mere dependent and ornament of man in his happier hours, should be his stay and solace when smitten with sudden calamity; winding herself into the rugged recesses of his nature, tenderly supporting the drooping head, and binding up the broken heart.

I was once congratulating a friend, who had around him a blooming family, knit together in the strongest affection. "I can wish you no better lot," said he, with enthusiasm, "than to have a wife and children. If you are prosperous, there they are to share your prosperity; if otherwise, there they are to comfort you." And, indeed, I have observed that a married man falling into misfortune, is more apt to retrieve his situation in the world than a single one; partly, because he is more stimulated to exertion by the necessities of the helpless and beloved beings who depend upon him for subsistence, but chiefly because his spirits are soothed and relieved by domestic endearments, and his self-respect kept alive by finding, that, though all abroad is darkness and humiliation, yet there is still a little world of love at home, of which he is the monarch. Whereas, a single man is apt to run to waste and self-neglect; to fancy himself lonely and abandoned, and his heart to fall to ruin, like some deserted mansion, for want of an inhabitant.

These observations call to mind a little domestic story, of which I was once a witness. My intimate friend, Leslie, had married a beautiful and accomplished girl, who had been brought up in the midst of fashionable life. She had, it is true, no fortune, but that of my friend was ample; and he delighted in the anticipation of indulging her in every elegant pursuit, and administering to those delicate tastes and fancies that spread a kind of witchery about the sex.--"Her life," said he, "shall be like a fairy tale."

The very difference in their characters produced a harmonious combination; he was of a romantic, and somewhat serious cast; she was all life and gladness. I have often noticed the mute rapture with which he would gaze upon her in company, of which her sprightly powers made her the delight: and how, in the midst of applause, her eye would still turn to him, as if there alone she sought favor and acceptance. When leaning on his arm, her slender form contrasted finely with his tall, manly person. The fond, confiding air with which she looked up to him seemed to call forth a flush of triumphant pride and cherishing tenderness, as if he doated on his lovely burden from its very helplessness. Never did a couple set forward on the flowery path of early and well-suited marriage with a fairer prospect of felicity.

It was the misfortune of my friend, however, to have embarked his property in large speculations; and he had not been married many months, when, by a succession of sudden disasters, it was swept from him, and he found himself reduced to almost penury. For a time he kept his situation to himself, and went about with a haggard countenance, and a breaking heart. His life was but a protracted agony; and what rendered it more insupportable was the necessity of keeping up a smile in the presence of his wife; for he could not bring himself to overwhelm her with the news. She saw, however, with the quick eyes of affection, that all was not well with him. She marked his altered looks and stifled sighs, and was not to be deceived by his sickly and vapid attempts at cheerfulness. She tasked all her sprightly powers and tender blandishments to win him back to happiness; but she only drove the arrow deeper into his soul. The more he saw cause to love her, the more torturing was the thought that he was soon to make her wretched. A little while, thought he, and the smile will vanish from that cheek--the song will die away from those lips--the lustre of those eyes will be quenched with sorrow and the happy heart which now beats lightly in that bosom, will be weighed down, like mine, by the cares and miseries of the world.

At length he came to me one day, and related his whole situation in a tone of the deepest despair. When I had heard him through, I inquired: "Does your wife know all this?"--At the question he burst into an agony of tears. "For God's sake!" cried he, "if you have any pity on me don't mention my wife; it is the thought of her that drives me almost to madness!"

"And why not?" said I. "She must know it sooner or later: you cannot keep it long from her, and the intelligence may break upon her in a more startling manner than if imparted by yourself; for the accents of those we love soften the harshest tidings. Besides, you are depriving yourself of the comforts of her sympathy; and not merely that, but also endangering the only bond that can keep hearts together--an unreserved community of thought and feeling. She will soon perceive that something is secretly preying upon your mind; and true love will not brook reserve; it feels undervalued and outraged, when even the sorrows of those it loves are concealed from it."

"Oh, but my friend! to think what a blow I am to give to all her future prospects,--how I am to strike her very soul to the earth, by telling her that her husband is a beggar! that she is to forego all the elegancies of life--all the pleasures of society--to shrink with me into indigence and obscurity! To tell her that I have dragged her down from the sphere in which she might have continued to move in constant brightness--the light of every eye--the admiration of every heart!--How can she bear poverty? She has been brought up in all the refinements of opulence. How can she bear neglect? She has been the idol of society. Oh, it will break her heart--it will break her heart!"

I saw his grief was eloquent, and I let it have its flow; for sorrow relieves itself by words. When his paroxysm had subsided, and he had relapsed into moody silence, I resumed the subject gently, and urged him to break his situation at once to his wife. He shook his head mournfully, but positively.

"But how are you to keep it from her? It is necessary she should know it, that you may take the steps proper to the alteration of your circumstances. You must change your style of living--nay," observing a pang to pass across his countenance, "don't let that afflict you. I am sure you have never placed your happiness in outward show--you have yet friends, warm friends, who will not think the worse of you for being less splendidly lodged: and surely it does not require a palace to be happy with Mary--"

"I could be happy with her," cried he, convulsively, "in a hovel!--I could go down with her into poverty and the dust!--I could--I could--God bless her!--God bless her!" cried he, bursting into a transport of grief and tenderness.

"And believe me, my friend," said I, stepping up, and grasping him warmly by the hand, "believe me, she can be the same with you. Ay, more; it will be a source of pride and triumph to her--it will call forth all the latent energies and fervent sympathies of her nature; for she will rejoice to prove that she loves you for yourself. There is in every true woman's heart a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity; but which kindles up, and beams, and blazes in the dark hour of adversity. No man knows what the wife of his bosom is--no man knows what a ministering angel she is--until he has gone with her through the fiery trials of this world."

There was something in the earnestness of my manner, and the figurative style of my language, that caught the excited imagination of Leslie. I knew the auditor I had to deal with; and following up the impression I had made, I finished by persuading him to go home and unburden his sad heart to his wife.

I must confess, notwithstanding all I had said, I felt some little solicitude for the result. Who can calculate on the fortitude of one whose life has been a round of pleasures? Her gay spirits might revolt at the dark, downward path of low humility suddenly pointed out before her, and might cling to the sunny regions in which they had hitherto revelled. Besides, ruin in fashionable life is accompanied by so many galling mortifications, to which, in other ranks, it is a stranger. In short, I could not meet Leslie, the next morning, without trepidation. He had made the disclosure.

"And how did she bear it?"

"Like an angel! It seemed rather to be a relief to her mind, for she threw her arms around my neck, and asked if this was all that had lately made me unhappy.--But, poor girl," added he, "she cannot realize the change we must undergo. She has no idea of poverty but in the abstract; she has only read of it in poetry, where it is allied to love. She feels as yet no privation; she suffers no loss of accustomed conveniences nor elegancies. When we come practically to experience its sordid cares, its paltry wants, its petty humiliations--then will be the real trial."

"But," said I, "now that you have got over the severest task, that of breaking it to her, the sooner you let the world into the secret the better. The disclosure may be mortifying; but then it is a single misery, and soon over: whereas you otherwise suffer it, in anticipation, every hour in the day. It is not poverty, so much as pretence, that harasses a ruined man--the struggle between a proud mind and an empty purse-the keeping up a hollow show that must soon come to an end. Have the courage to appear poor, and you disarm poverty of its sharpest sting." On this point I found Leslie perfectly prepared. He had no false pride himself, and as to his wife, she was only anxious to conform to their altered fortunes.

Some days afterwards, he called upon me in the evening. He had disposed of his dwelling-house, and taken a small cottage in the country, a few miles from town. He had been busied all day in sending out furniture. The new establishment required few articles, and those of the simplest kind. All the splendid furniture of his late residence had been sold, excepting his wife's harp. That, he said, was too closely associated with the idea of herself it belonged to the little story of their loves; for some of the sweetest moments of their courtship were those when he had leaned over that instrument, and listened to the melting tones of her voice.--I could not but smile at this instance of romantic gallantry in a doating husband.

He was now going out to the cottage, where his wife had been all day superintending its arrangement. My feelings had become strongly interested in the progress of his family story, and, as it was a fine evening, I offered to accompany him.

He was wearied with the fatigues of the day, and, as we walked out, fell into a fit of gloomy musing.

"Poor Mary!" at length broke, with a heavy sigh, from his lips.

"And what of her," asked I, "has anything happened to her?"

"What," said he, darting an impatient glance, is it nothing to be reduced to this paltry situation--to be caged in a miserable cottage--to be obliged to toil almost in the menial concerns of her wretched habitation?"

Has she then repined at the change?

"Repined! she has been nothing but sweetness and good-humor. Indeed, she seems in better spirits than I have ever known her; she has been to me all love, and tenderness, and comfort!"

"Admirable girl!" exclaimed I. "You call yourself poor, my friend; you never were so rich,--you never knew the boundless treasures of excellence you possessed in that woman."

"Oh! but, my friend, if this first meeting at the cottage were over, I think I could then be comfortable. But this is her first day of real experience; she has been introduced into a humble dwelling,--she has been employed all day in arranging its miserable equipments,--she has, for the first time, known the fatigues of domestic employment,--she has, for the first time, looked around her on a home destitute of every thing elegant--almost of every thing convenient; and may now be sitting down, exhausted and spiritless, brooding over a prospect of future poverty."

There was a degree of probability in this picture that I could not gainsay, so we walked on in silence.

After turning from the main road up a narrow lane, so thickly shaded with forest-trees as to give it a complete air of seclusion, we came in sight of the cottage. It was humble enough in its appearance for the most pastoral poet; and yet it had a pleasing rural look. A wild vine had overrun one end with a profusion of foliage; a few trees threw their branches gracefully over it; and I observed several pots of flowers tastefully disposed about the door, and on the grass-plot in front. A small wicket-gate opened upon a footpath that wound through some shrubbery to the door. Just as we approached, we heard the sound of music--Leslie grasped my arm; we paused and listened. It was Mary's voice singing, in a style of the most touching simplicity, a little air of which her husband was peculiarly fond.

I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my arm. He stepped forward, to hear more distinctly. His step made a noise on the gravel-walk. A bright beautiful face glanced out at the window, and vanished--a light footstep-was heard--and Mary came tripping forth to meet us. She was in a pretty rural dress of white; a few wild flowers were twisted in her fine hair; a fresh bloom was on her cheek; her whole countenance beamed with smiles--I had never seen her look so lovely.

"My dear George," cried she, "I am so glad you are come; I have been watching and watching for you; and running down the lane, and looking out for you. I've set out a table under a beautiful tree behind the cottage; and I've been gathering some of the most delicious strawberries, for I know you are fond of them--and we have such excellent cream--and everything is so sweet and still here-Oh!"--said she, putting her arm within his, and looking up brightly in his face, "Oh, we shall be so happy!"

Poor Leslie was overcome.--He caught her to his bosom--he folded his arms round her--he kissed her again and again--he could not speak, but the tears gushed into his eyes; and he has often assured me, that though the world has since gone prosperously with him, and his life has, indeed, been a happy one, yet never has he experienced a moment of more exquisite felicity."

It's Always The Rain
2004-08-19 11:20:59 ET

Rain on a Tin Roof ~ Julie Roberts

"His eyes are blue just like the ocean
His heart is a river free
And now and then he gets the notion
And he finds his way to me
His loveís likeÖ

Rain on a tin roof
The sweet song of a summertime storm
And oh, the way that it moves you
Itís a melody of passion raginí on
And then itís gone

He tells me heíll be back to see me
Every time he has to go
And I keep wondriní just when thatíll be
ĎCause with him you never know

His loveís likeÖ
Rain on a tin roof
The sweet song of a summertime storm
And oh, the way that it moves you
Itís a melody of passion raginí on
And then itís gone

And just like a thirsty field, I canít complain a bit
ĎCause Iím thankful for every single drop I get
His loveís like Rain on a tin roof
The sweet song of a summertime storm
And oh, the way that it moves you
Itís a melody of passion raginí on
And then itís gone
And then itís gone
Then itís gone"


2004-08-06 09:50:21 ET

I just realized how much better the things I posted on my old website were than the crap I put up here. Maybe it's the change of location...or the threat of revealing too much. At least at the other blog I felt that if you read what I write, it was more of an accident. Here, it might be construed as me trying to "say" something on purpose b/c I _know_ it will be seen. Don't get me wrong, I like you people a whole heck of alot. And I'm going to try harder to write like I used to. Even my language has changed. I used to write much more poetically, now it's just words. Seriously, check out some of my older stuff:

I've come a long way in the wrong direction.

2004-08-06 09:30:36 ET

"I donít know a dream thatís not been shattered
Or driven to itís knees
Oh, but itís alright, itís alright
For we lived so well so long
Still, when I think of the
Road weíre traveling on
I wonder whatís gone wrong
I canít help it, I wonder whatís gone wrong."

~Simon & Garfunkel

Flying High...or something like it
2004-08-06 09:27:03 ET

The Golden Age of Aviation - Donald (The Lucksmiths)

For argumentís sake letís pretend we could stop arguing
Over which of us is wrong and why it isnít you
Weíre barely awake before your headís up in the clouds again
Thereís nothing you like more than having nothing much to do

Stood akimbo
Staring out the window at the sky

All afternoon youíve been buried in a biography
Of an aviatrix lost at sea, never to be found
Holed up in your room, holding out for an apology
But gravity will get to you eventually

Youíll come down from upstairs again
With all those model aeroplanes

And the novelty wore off
When the pilots still wore goggles
But your eyes look skywards
And your mind still boggles

Iím going grey but you look younger than a year ago
When you put your hair in pigtails and you put your hand in mine
Weíll be OK - Iím happy when youíre here
But oh, your smile can seem as far away as once upon a time

You canít help it
Hopelessly nostalgic

A passing interest in the past
But I think itís going to last a little longer
Iíll hold on to your hand as tightly as I can
But modelling glue is stronger

The novelty wore off
When the pilots still wore goggles
But your eyes look skywards
And your mind still boggles
Through frequent flyersí disappointments and disasters
The golden age of aviation never lost its lustre

40 Days and 40 Nights
2004-08-05 06:03:17 ET

I've been house-sitting the past coupla days and let me tell you, when it's only you and a big slobbery dog life can be pretty good. I had a friend over, but that was about it. The rest of the week has just been taking it easy and doin' my thing. I'm looking forward to getting back in my own house, though. I've got some things I relaly need to get done there. Alright, Im going to back to my big, hairy, slobbery dog and the laundry that needs to go out on the line. I hope it doesn't rain today.

You A Dummy...
2004-08-04 17:57:30 ET

Fool In The Rain Lyrics - Led Zeppelin

"Well there's a light in your eye that keeps shining
Like a star that can't wait for the night
I hate to think I've been blinded baby
Why can't I see you tonight?
And the warmth of your smile starts a-burnin'
And the thrill of your touch gives me fright
And I'm shaking so much, really yearning
Why don't you show up, make it all right?
Yeah, it's all right.

And if you promised you'd love so completely
and you said you would always be true
You swore that you would never leave me, baby:
What ever happened to you?
And you thought it was only in movies
How you wish all your dreams would come true--Hey
It ain't the first time believe me, baby
I'm standin here feeling blue
Yeah I'm blue

Now I will stand in the rain on the corner
I'll watch the people go shuffling downtown
Another ten minutes no longer
And then I'm turning around
The clock on the wall's moving slower
My heart it sinks to the ground
And the storm that I thought would blow over
Clouds the light of the love that I found

Now my body is starting to quiver
And the palms of my hands getting wet
I've got no reason to doubt you baby,
It's all a terrible mess
I'll run in the rain till I'm breathless
When I'm breathless I'll run till I drop, hey
The thoughts of a fool's kind of careless
I'm just a fool waiting on the wrong block, oh yeah
Light of the love that I found."

Out Of My Gourd!
2004-08-04 17:56:53 ET

Out of My Head - Fastball

"Sometimes I feel
Like I am drunk behind the wheel
The wheel of possibility
However it may roll
Give it a spin
See if you can somehow factor in
You know there's always more than one way
To say exactly what you mean to say

Was I out of my head? Was I out of my mind?
How could I have ever been so blind?
I was waiting for an indication
It was hard to find
Don't matter what I say only what I do
I never mean to do bad things to you
So quiet but I finally woke up
If you're sad then its time you spoke up too"

New Stuff
2004-07-28 07:43:17 ET

Integrity Fades Remarkably Easily Into the Abyss

Iím always amazed at the smallness of my own hands
And the comfort Iím told that they provide.
Also, the destruction that comfort rains down on my home;
Tearing it beam for beam,
Hanging excuses in the closets and lighting fires in the basement.

Acetate images of future expectations curl and burn within these rooms.
All around me, frame by frame; hundreds of moving images flicker and move Ė
projected on the annihilated walls.
Unable to turn away, Iím obligated to watch;
Forced to wait for the reel to come to an end.

Rebel Yell

So many facets of the soul
All like shards of glass.
They cut and the body bleeds.
Feels like its drowning
In its own blood.
There has to be a much better way than this.
Multifaceted smush of everything perfect
Feels suffocating to this body.
Too much crammed into such a small space.
Too many ideas, too many feelings
Too many ideas
Too many fucking personalities
To ever satiate this soul
Too many past lives that left
This soul rankled and used.
This soul has walked the Nile
And flown with swans.
It has ran with the bulls
And defied every rule established by man.
This soul has been male, female, animal and cloud.
This soul has seen the world
And the comets that reflect in this bodyís eyes
Are only a small part of the cosmos that are contained
In this bodyís solar plexis.
This soul has hung on the gallows with the
Witches of Massachusetts
It has mined coal from the bellies of the earth
It has hunted with cavemen and
Walked with royalty.
It has ruled countries and
Slept in gutters.
It has birthed and died and rebirthed.
It has cast spells upon the earth
And danced at Woodstock.
It has felt the earth before DDT
It lived a thousand lifetimes in the
Blink of an eye all from the top of
A spotted mushroom.
The blood that this body
Sheds is millennia old.
It does not change.
The essence and aura remain the same
It is only the body that changes.
Only the name that is construed century after century
To a different pronunciation and sound.
And yet this soul answers to what it is not.
It speaks words it does not believe because the body
In which it is confined holds it prisoner.
So much better would it be to be let to itís own devices.
Rebel yells ripping from the belly of this body
Are heard by no one on the outside
And the soul weeps primal tears
Within the silence of its grave.

Why I Hate The Sorry Art of Speaking

If truth be told in the words of a poem
Then the obligatory sidelong glances
And dating graces arenít working so well
And the tired clichťd lines that wring from you lips and squeeze from your pen
Burn a whole in my brain that screams
Liar, liar pants on fire

Show me your heart, but donít give me words.
Audry Hepburn was sick of words and so am I.
Contradictory by their very nature
They mean so little
And so much at the same time.

Polar Opposite

You see love, a barbed chain spun in circles of silver.
I see it a freedom.
You see love a prison replete with steel bars.
I see a revolution.


I want to be pure for you.
I want to be whole and childlike
And completely honest.
Residing in your arms
Whole and content and complete
There should be no hypocritical blemished place
Upon which you might fret or worry.

I want to keep myself only for you
And have you delve into the treasures I have horded.
In time, many years or months from now
I want to be all for you.
1 comment

probably the most telling lyrics I will ever post
2004-07-28 07:40:13 ET

Throwing It All Away - Genesis

"Need I say I love you
Need I say I care
Need I say that emotion`s
Something we don`t share

I don`t want to be sitting here
Trying to deceive you
Cause you know I know, baby
That I don`t wanna go

We cannot live together
We cannot live apart
That`s the situation
I`ve known it from the start

Every time that I look at you
I can see the future
Cause you know I know, babe
That I don`t wanna go

Just throwing it all away
Throwing it all away
Is there nothing that I can say
To make you change your mind

I watch the world go round and round
And see mine turning upside down

Now who will light up the darkness
Who will hold your hand
Who will find you the answers
When you don`t understand

Why should I have to be the one
Who has to convince you
Cause you know I know, baby
That I don`t wanna go..."

2004-07-26 06:37:15 ET

Top 10 Signs Youíre Dating A Girl From My Hometown

10.) In discussions of career choices, she explains how she couldnít decide between being a cosmetologist,
a cashier at Boyerís IGA, or a bank teller.
9.) She prefers David Lee Rothís version of ďCalifornia GirlsĒ.
8.) She took a second job as a Mug Zís waitress to help pay off her Foxmoor charge account.
7.) The sweatshirts that say ďOakleyĒ
6.) You met her in ďthe lotĒ.
5.) She changes her own oil.
4.) The 47 vanilla scented air fresheners hanging from her rear view mirror.
3.) She only agrees to go out with you when you mention that her other car is a Camaro.
2.) She can kick your ass at pool, darts, and horseshoes.

And the number one sign youíre dating a home girl:

1.) She can just plain kick your ass.

Now, for a super goofy internet quiz (with entirely vague results):

Number a piece of paper from 1 to 12

Okay, now for the quiz!

1.) Write down 6 words Ė any 6 words that you can think of.
2.) How many guy/girls have you kissed? Multiply that number by 4.
3.) Say you were to take any girl/guy to a formal dance right now, who would it be?
4.) Who, right now, is your crush?
5.) Who do you think is the finest person your school/place of employment?
6.) Who do you think is the first person you think of that is the opposite sex? (They must be in your age range.)
7.) Write down any color.
8-10.) Write down 3 songs that pop into your head.
11.) What time is it right now? After you look, multiply the hour it is by 2.
12.) How many hours in day?


1.) The six words you wrote down are going to become significant some time another in your lifetime.
2.) The number you wrote down is how large your sexual desire is. So, if you put 4 your desire is pretty low. If you put 20, it would be considered pretty high.
3.) Is the person that you could possibly marry.
4.) The person you wrote down in going to ask you out in a week, a month or year.
5.) The person you wrote down will have great significance in your life very soon.
6.) The person you wrote has liked you for a really long time. You may want to starts talking to them.
7.) The color you chose is going to be part of the color scheme for your wedding or the color of you dress or tuxedo.
8.) Is the song that you will always remember.
9.) This song is the way you feel about your crush.
10.) Is the way your crush feels about you.
11.) Is how many people you have to send this to.
12.) This is how many minutes you have to send this letter.

Go On Take The Money And Run
2004-07-21 12:30:47 ET

You'll Think Of Me ~ Keith Urban.

"I woke up early this morning around 4am
With the moon shining bright as headlights on the interstate
I pulled the covers over my head and tried to catch some sleep
But thoughts of us kept keeping me awake
Ever since you found yourself in someone else's arms
I've been tryin' my best to get along
But that's OK
There's nothing left to say, but

Take your records, take your freedom
Take your memories I don't need'em
Take your space and take your reasons
But you'll think of me
And take your cat and leave my sweater
'Cause we have nothing left to weather
In fact I'll feel a whole lot better
But you'll think of me, you'll think of me

I went out driving trying to clear my head
I tried to sweep out all the ruins that my emotions left
I guess I'm feeling just a little tired of this
And all the baggage that seems to still exist
It seems the only blessing I have left to my name
Is not knowing what we could have been
What we should have been

Take your records, take your freedom
Take your memories I don't need'em
Take your space and take your reasons
But you'll think of me
And take your cat and leave my sweater
'Cause we have nothing left to weather
In fact I'll feel a whole lot better
But you'll think of me

Someday I'm gonna run across your mind
Don't worry, I'll be fine
I'm gonna be alright
While you're sleeping with your pride
Wishing I could hold you tight
I'll be over you
And on with my life

So take your records, take your freedom
Take your memories I don't need'em
And take your cat and leave my sweater
'Cause we have nothing left to weather
In fact I'll feel a whole lot better
But you'll think of me

So take your records, take your freedom
Take your memories I don't need'em
Take your space and all your reasons
But you'll think of me
And take your cat and leave my sweater
'Cause we got nothing left to weather
In fact I'll feel a whole lot better
But you'll think of me, you'll think of me, yeah

And you're gonna think of me
Oh someday baby, someday"

back from the dead
2004-07-20 10:38:39 ET

Wow. It's been a long time since I wrote in here. I'm just so busy, I don't have time to "pen" my own words anymore. Just wanted to shout out to everyone and say hello. As always, I've got to run, but I will post something original soon. Promise.

2004-07-15 05:42:40 ET

Miss Byrd ~ From: Closer Than Ever

"The Sign says I'm Miss Byrd
And that's my name
I'm one of those people who all look the same
At work I'm hardly seen
I come and go
But I know something that people don't know

Everyone who sees me thinks
that I'm that dull Miss Byrd
I could blow that myth apart
But I don't say a word

I sit here at my desk
and no one knows
not twenty minutes ago
I was not wearing clothes
I was in someone's arms, in someone's bed
Oh what the thought of it does to my head

If it true a Byrd makes music
when her heart takes wing
This Byrd is singing
This Byrd is singing
I'm singing I'm in love
But I'm not saying a thing

Down in apartment A
The super's aptly named
Last week I went to the basement
more hours than I claimed
He says I'm super too
He calls me hot
I show those basement apartments a lot

Back at work I'm crisp and fresh
reliable Miss Byrd
Seals are dancing in my flash
But I don't say a word

I'm showing penthouse C
As I being
I still feel his hands sliding over my skin
My nipples start to throb
inside my bra
that's when I start to go la-dah-di-dah

If you've never felt the lift
a little lunch can bring
This Byrd is singing
Miss Byrd is singing
I'm singing I'm on fire
But I'm not saying a thing

This is a floor thru five
I call it more a six
The broken kitchenette tiles they will fix

Lots of girls who first seem shy
Have secrets I have found
If you think I'm special
I suggest you look around

That little office temp
who seems so dumb
How come a trip to McDonald's
is making her hum?

And Mrs. Smith is sales
Who's turning grey
Why is smiling that curious way?

If it's true the drabbest songbirds
come alive in spring
The birds are singing
Miss Byrd is singing
I'm singing
I'm in love
But I'm not saying a thing"

Mumís the word
Heard melodies are sweet, But those unheard...


Push On
2004-07-15 05:42:13 ET

I'll Get Up Tomorrow Morning ~ from: Closer Than Ever

ďIím late for work of course the car wonít start
The brand new VCR just fell apart
I meet the boss with ketchup on my pants.
My wife announces she want more romance.
But does the odd catastrophe amaze me?
Oh no, ere cataclysm doesnít faze me.
Iíll get up tomorrow morning, take a deep breath and go on.

When problems come my way as well they mist,
Iím proud to say I know how to adjust
My ten year oldís best friend is smoking pot.
The rood will coast a grant I havenít got.
My daughter says the acting bug just bit her.
My teenage son is sleeping with the sitter.
Iíll get up tomorrow morning,
Make a great big bull shot, drink it and go on.

And then of course thereís my amazing wife,
That mystery woman tied to me for life.
I never know whoíll greet me at my house:
The broker of the month or Minnie Mouse.
She says she loves her job and I believe her.
And then she takes a class, and sheís this weaver.

Iíll get up tomorrow morning, say the past is prelude,
Stay loose, Drop a Quaalude and go on.

At times I think that I an rather brave
For smiling as I near an early grave.
But I do not want points for having hope
I have this little trick that helps me cope.
It isnít avant-garde or even trendy
Itís just this one manís modis operandi:
No matter how my stomach my be churning,
Or what new lesson Iím again relearning,
Iíll get up tomorrow morning, take a hot bath
Do my pushups, feed the puppies.
Ear my oat bran, throw up and go on.Ē

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