Beck. NYC 73 - 78. from the album REWORK_Philip Glass remixed by Dunvagenmusic

Beck. NYC 73 - 78. from the album REWORK_Philip Glass remixed by Dunvagenmusic

The Coal Hits The Fire - A.A. Bondy

Growing up you pick up crazy superstitions along the way and I've picked up my fair share of them. My favourite is that I shouldn't think of something I want badly or else it won't come true. These wants weren't just material, they were how I'd picture situations to be. Yes, basically me in a favourable situation. See the upside was that if I didn't want something to happen then I could think and imagine it a hundred times over and then they were bound never to happen.


So what I did then, was not allow myself to think of pleasant situations but to strategise ways out of uncomfortable situations. And trust me it work, I was and am usually prepared for the worst. But I never was prepared for pleasant things, they usually caught me off guard and then I didn't know how to respond to it. Many times when I was i looked nice i responded with a resounding "shut up!". Why? Because I was prepared for the heartache and the heartbreak only, not the elation of rising in love.

I suppose the point of this ramble is that some of us are cynics and maybe just scared of life's 'downs'. We spend a whole lot of time preparing for the bad never prepared to accept that good things happen, just because they do. Its not because we're good people, they just do. There's no reason. To try and comprehend it would be a waste of our energies.


So when I go to bed tonight I'm going to go to sleep thinking/dreaming of something good that's going to happen to me tomorrow I'm not going to worry about tomorrow cause I've just spent too much of my life doing that already.

Ramble

I'd like to start the story of how we met right here in this town, if only you'd let me. I'd like to be able to tell our children that I knew when you gently slid your hand in mine sitting in that church that it would fit perfectly with mine. I'd like to be able to go back to that church with you ten years down the line and sit in the same pew hand in hand, never letting go. I'd like to tell them of the night it rained so heavily we had to stand under the awning of that bookshop you took me too. And how we watched people run under their umbrellas to their little houses how the tourists with all their novelty hats were drenched to the bones, their spirits and their hats ruined. I'd like to tell them about how even under that awning crowded with people I knew what you were looking at. I'd like to tell them about the first lunch, you remember that one, I was so nervous that I wouldn't have anything to say to you I kept asking you questions. Did it feel like an interrogation. I'd like to tell them of the day I had to leave, I didn't want to but my work was done. How with every inch that the car drove away my heart just kept on shrinking. I'd like to tell them all of that, if only they were real.

Death

I thought I loved him, but I did not. I loved the idea of him. I wanted the idea of him, I wanted IT.

All I had were my thoughts, but my thoughts were not enough anymore. So I turned on a film to drown the hollow screams in my mind. But no sooner had it started than it began again.

No friend or foe to occupy my thoughts. Just an idea of a man. A perfect man. With brown hair, and soft eyes. As time passed by, it became any man.

The nights became longer. Even when I went out I found I had no story to tell, nor any joke to share.

Then I found a companion, that no eye could see, nor ear could hear, save mine. I felt it in my fingertips. When I closed my eyes at night, I felt it. When people were ending their day, I felt it even more. The loneliness sat with me. Ever my companion but never my friend.

That voice knew the loneliness of my soul. It heard the stories I could tell and the songs I could sing. But it spoke with such rage. It spoke with so rage at me. It condemned me to the deepest deaths of hell and saw no redemption for me. All day and night it spoke to me words unkind but true. It told me of the fate I was to meet. It pointed to the people around me, those who I used to call friend and those who I saw passing by.

It listened as I opened the bottle. It watched me put the pills on my youthful lips. It heard me sigh as I closed my eyes. Laid besides me, and at last became quiet.