paper car

we'll take a drive in our paper car
and ride along the cotton sea

these are the things you've missed.
and these are the things i love.
i will send you a parade of my memories
in hopes you will find some reason,
sift through the petty touches and words,
to find something i've tucked away.


if you find yourself setting sail
don't forget to dirty your feet
if you find yourself setting sail
don't forget to callous your hands
then you might recall all the reasons you found and
all the people you've loved and all the places you've been.
and maybe, just maybe, you'll find me on
your way home
and maybe, just maybe, you'll find me
on your way to the unknown


and we'll take a drive in our paper car
and ride along the cotton sea

a start to the school year

I am so glad collective is back. I feel like I'm home again.

this is very nice. you should listen:

http://cllct.com/release/layersonleaving

17 august 2009

I keep listening to watercolor paintings and it makes things seem all right.
I am realizing how much I do not want to go back to school.
It's shitty that my really good friends don't go my school and I'm just realizing this now as well.
It's also shitty that two of my best friends just moved far far far away and I won't see them until november.
But things will be okay
things will be okay
things will be okay.

'I am going to make it through this year if it kills me'

'try to be patient

on the way home'

hello again fanfarlo

Give me rampant intellectualism as a coping mechanism.

song for a friend

Soon we'll all be in separte parts of this country and i won't say the things i mean
because the things we say cannot be quantified by the telephone wires running from state to state.
And I'll miss you, I will, and I'll write to you every time you run through my mind.
But it won't be the same, no it won't be the same, but we'll make it til wintertime

we're moving fast
and we can't slow down
it'll be okay
yeah it'll be okay

I'll grow a pair of wings and fly to come see you, maybe sprout a wheel or four
It really doesn't matter, cause the next time I see you it'll feel like you never left this town at all.
I hope you build snowmen and climb lots of trees and fill up a basement with friends
and if ever you're lonely you can always come back down south where the winters aren't as cold

we're moving fast
and we can't slow down
it'll be okay
yeah it'll be okay

|sorry|sorry|sorry|sorry|sorry|sorry|

I thought things might work out, but I guess they won't. It was a silly thought because we live in different universes, we live in different galaxies. I guess I don't really know you, not nearly as much as I'd like to. But I thought that one day I would get to memorize your face and maybe I'd see you on the street or I'd happen upon you on the beach because that's where we both like to go. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.....

but darling, I'm not sorry............
We will still have the beach
and I will still have me
and I will still have my feet

Oh oh oh



THIS IS SO SILLY.

ode to summertimes

There is something calming about being with friends all day and all night and not sleeping and screaming neutral milk hotel songs on the top of a tower. We are all lulled by the comfort of each other's company and deliriousness. I want more of these nights where there is no pressure to entertain each other because we know that being with one another is enough. The only pressure is to find something to keep us occupied so we will stay awake. This is what summer means: to be free of any pressures or demands or cares or insecurities, to drive around blaring music and sometimes singing along to stay awake or simply because you know the words and before they can be stopped they spout from your mouth, to buy 2 liter bottles of BIG THUNDER and sip all day to keep conscious, to go to McDonald's at 6:30 in the a.m. and sit on the comfy couches, to paint and carve things in the wee hours when things are fuzzy around the edges and you are not too sure of the time or the place and that's all right, to play yahtzee until numbers do not make sense anymore and adding them seems silly, to go to the park and sing about genitals and how you should show me yours really loudly, to not give two shits about anything tangible because you are so fucking happy in these instances that nothing matters but the warmth you feel inside from your best friends fully and completely understanding you.

summertime, if there was any doubt that this year you were not so nice, this day has washed it all away. everything is okay now, nothing else matters.