1. |
Thoreau for Schmucks
00:51
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"As if you could kill time without damaging eternity." As if you could remind without stepping away from yourself. It's something to keep in mind when you climb atop the masthead You have to keep in mind that you're atop the masthead. Walden Pond or fatal fall? Transcendence or death instant? End above, end up below? Whatever.
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2. |
Full of Hamms
01:07
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With these failure hands I can't make anything. With these failure hands I can barely crawl out. With these failure hands I can't hold anything. With these failure hands I might as well drop out. They're bruised or they're breaking, they're merely maintaining the semblance of something once worthwhile. If these husky hunks of shit could even throw a brick maybe then I'd feel I'd done something right. If I'd made the smallest bit of difference in this world, If I'd just brought something to the ground. Maybe then I'd feel accomplished with these fucking hands.
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3. |
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I feel like a dog with a broken leg trying to compete at a break-neck pace. Not to move forward or even save face but just to get by. I'm not here for pit or sympathy but will take all of your comforts. The quick the better: a film or a pitcher; a postcard from Michigan; a phone call from old friends; a silent game of chess; a cigarette on the front porch; my black cat on my lap (happiness in an instant); the Promise Ring looped on repeat. The simplest the slightest, happiness divided, I'll take whatever you've got. I need a beer. I need a belly rub. I need to get away.
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4. |
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"I wear out spines and ROM-drives" every night of my life. I'm up perusing archaic texts in their mother tongues such as the Dead Sea Scrolls. Holy shit, I'm a fucking prick. Have I told you how smart I am? You should probably listen to me. My head's in the right place. My degree's in the bright frame. My pride takes up space. I'm on the right track to win.
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5. |
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We're a nation of nappers who'd rather snooze and sleep in, avoid workdays for the weekends. Minimum wage can't see very far, maybe down a blow or two. Maybe to its favorite bar, not far past what it has to do. Wallow in shit the whole day just to come home and have nothing to say but you say you know of a good film? I swear on myself I'll die this way. Only six seasons? I wish there were more. Only 24 hours? I wish there were more. With some much to look forward to...
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weird kid Bloomington, Indiana
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