ne me quitte pas

i leave for france tomorrow. my second home.
jacques brel seems a little appropriate though, i can't help feeling writing letters won't be enough to satisfy my thirst for a certain reciprient. oh god, how i wish i could fall in love with the easy beauty in life, the cheap thrills and garish prettiness. instead i seek out the difficult, the hidden and that which is not mine to take.


ne me quitte pas. il fault oublier. tout peut s'oublier qui s'enfuit deja. oublier le temps, des malentendus, et le temps perdu a savoir comment. oublier ces heures qui tuaient parfois, a coup de pourquoi, le coeur de bonheur.
ne me quitte pas.

don't leave me. forget. everything which has already fled can be forgotten.
forget time, misunderstandings, and the times lost somehow.
forget those times which killed sometimes, by dint of reason, the heart of happiness.
don't leave me.

i've got arms

and i've got arms. let's get together and use those arms.

ohh, time's a wastin'.

I'm not as sad as Doestoevsky,

I'm not as clever as Mark Twain. I'll only buy a book for the way it looks, and then I'll put it on the shelf again. Now I could tell you what I'm thinking but it never seems to do you good. It's beyond me what a girl can see, I'm only lucid when I'm writing songs.

Life is strange. And sad. And beautiful.
And I'm not sure if I will ever understand it, or ever want to.
It's far too... wide. "It's the sky that makes you feel tried, it's a trick to make you see wide. It can all but break your heart in pieces"
I love David Bowie. And Belle & Sebastian.
Today, I was speaking to a boy who'll never read this, about Belle & Sebastian.
He was sweet and nervous and bit my lip when he kissed me, and it made me feel better about everything, about everything that has happened the past few weeks. Life goes on. There will always be another boy that likes Belle & Sebastian and David Bowie.

Some Things Last A Long Time

I haven't forgotten about you.

When The Wind Begins To Sing

O, the snows they melt the soonest
when the wind begins to sing
And the corn it ripens fastest
when the frosts are setting in
And when a woman tells me
that my face she'll soon forget
Before we part I'll wage a crown
she's fain to follow yet

The snows they melt the soonest
when the wind begins to sing
And the swallow flies without a thought
as long as it is spring
But when spring goes and winter blows,
my love, then you'll be fain
For all your pride to follow me
across the stormy main

O, the snows they melt the soonest
when the wind begins to sing
And the bee that flew when summer shone
in winter cannot sting
And I've seen a woman's anger
melt between the night and morn
So it's surely not a harder thing
to tame a woman's scorn

O, never say me farewell here
-no farewell I'll receive,
For you shall set me to the stile,
and kiss and take your leave
But I'll stay here til the woodcock comes
and the martlet takes his wing
For the snows they melt the soonest
when the wind begins to sing.

P.s

"Come, gentle night, come loving, black-browed night, give me my Romeo. And when I shall die, cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun."

The Prettiest Star

Prom was as i expected prom to be. They played the songs I thought they would play, they shook my hand and wished me luck, they made phony promises to 'meet up for a coffee in the summer' And it made me kind of sad that it all passed me by, and that 5 years in that place were over like that. I was brimming with resentment and pride and regret and excitement, and now I can't stop thinking that i wasted some of it. My dress was 60's and everyone looked at me and I felt out of place, I stick out like a sore thumb >>>
I know that nobody really reads this, so I said I was in love. I know that nobody really reads this, so i can say that I'm not sure what to do anymore. It's like I've been handed the moon and I don't know what to do with it, and every time I try to show someone the moon, every time I really bathe in the light of it, it disapears. The time of day changes, and I'm left standing there, wishing there was some way I could understand the nature of it's coming and going.
How naive I am! And how insolent. I will not let anyone advise me, so I stumble, and I fall.
I will not then let anyone comfort me, I find consolation in only one form.