“Nothing is important, so people realising that should get on with their lives, go mad, take their clothes off, jump in the canal, jump into one of those supermarket trolleys, race ‘round the supermarket and steal Mars bars and, y’know, kiss kittens and sit on the back of breadvans. Whatever makes people happy they should do it, because time is a mere scratch and life is nothing.”—Morrissey
And tonight will go on forever while we walk around this town like we own the streets. And stay awake through summer like we own the heat. Singing, “Everybody wake up! Wake up! It’s time to get down.” Everybody, everybody wake up, it’s time to get down.
I’m gonna stay eighteen forever, so we can stay like this forever.
virginia, i had a dream that you invited us over you still lived on the street where you laid down for good we all sat on the floor as my kids swam around us you smoked cigarettes like i knew you would we were worried about your personal salvation was it heaven or hell that you saw when your eyes closed? you smiled at us, floating high above the question like you knew something we didn’t know virginia, i had a dream we were closer than brothers singing pictures of you crashing cars skipping school we drove all over town as the days blurred around us we wore out your cassettes, we were nobody’s fool they were worried about our high school graduation they read us a poem “oh the places you’ll go” you smiled it off, floating high above the question like you knew something they didn’t know
I feel emotionally attached to this song. It’s so beautiful it makes me want to cry. But it’s hopeful too. I can’t adequately describe the feeling I get when listening to it. It’s as if he’s pouring out all this pain and frustration and I’m desperately trying to help to cure to save but we both know it’s futile. It’s like I know we could get through this together but the whole problem is that we’re apart. No human is worthy of this audial brilliance. Somebody someday please tab it out.
“Recently, I’ve been writing a lot of songs about the devil and outerspace. I’m not really into God or any of that shit, but I’m pretty sure I got a visit from the devil. He doesn’t make daytime appearances; he visits you in your sleep”—Isaac Brock, ‘98
i sit home and plead the throne to speak, to speak to me, to me, to me — hasn’t said a single thing. you’re probably too busy with your work, or am i just excusing you for leaving me alone? there’s nothing in these wooden drawers to bring you back, to keep me bored. i don’t know what to do with me no more.
it’s just about figuring out finances, and i always have my stupid backup babysitting job so i don’t see why not…but then it’s hard to just commit to it with a “yes, i’m coming” but i think i can make it work.