That’s optimistic, but I’m not sure they can here. I have it pretty good right now and I don’t want to come off as ungrateful when I’m wholly the opposite. I just don’t know how to handle this right now with everything else going on around me.
My professor for my creative writing class told us to write a quick poem in the vein of William Carlos Williams’ “This Is Just to Say.” Rather than writing an actual note, I decided to do a little imagining and banged this out.
From a complete stranger, I know the feeling of everything suddenly changing and nothing around you feels like its worth anything. Effort means nothing. Joy means nothing. The future means nothing. I get that. But it gets better. Hope it does for you
Am I allowed to freely post things here? Even little vents that I won’t mean in a few hours or days? Am I not human and not allowed to experience stupid emotions from time to time that will change suddenly? Apparently not.
I can’t find a job and I’m losing friends like a kid loses baby teeth.
I don’t remember feeling this low since before college began. Fuck The Wonder Years and positivity right now, pure optimism won’t bring me out of this. I’ve stepped in everyone else’s shoes and I’m tired of people stepping on my own. I quit.
I am extremely happy. I had an amazing night at the Williamsburg Hall of Music seeing and listening to Evan Weiss (Into It. Over It.), Ace Enders (The Early November/I Can Make a Mess Like Nobody’s Business), Chris Conley (Saves the Day), Matt Pryor (The Get Up Kids), and Anthony Raneri (Bayside). All played solo acoustic sets, and I was surprised and excited by each. After the show, I met Evan and Matt, and silently bugged out. Those are two of the most inspiring songwriters in my life. If I become anything like either of those men, I would be extremely content and happy with my life.
On another note, I had an epiphany during the show. It made me realize who is meaningful in my life and and who cares about me in theirs and where my efforts should go in relation to those people in whose lives I’m not meaningful—i.e., elsewhere from them.
Tim Landers’ (Transit) and Brad Wiseman’s (This Time Next Year) band. These guys just got signed to Rise Records and deserve all the attention they can get. I can’t wait to hear a full length from them.
Transit + TTNY = alternative pop/punk sex in my ears.
Oh good, you didn’t start it either lmao. I’m buying it when I get back and reading at work
Hell nah, broski. I just read the preface and intro, which were pretty interesting until my eyes started bleeding dreams. The autobiography’s only about 40 pages so it shouldn’t be too hard to knock out quickly.
Today I finish Will Grayson, Will Grayson, which I have been majorly enjoying for the two weeks I’ve spent on it. I also have to finish (but first start) Freud’s autobiography for school. I really hope he analyzes the hell out of himself in it. Afterward, I’m going to pack everything I need for the next five months of my life in Garden City. I can’t wait for it.
Soon enough, I’m going to have to return to my story for the contest for Stony Brook. Right now, I really dig it, but I’m not getting that inspired feeling to continue it right now. Hopefully this month spent recharging will give me what I need to make it awesome, even if I don’t win.
Finally, as the sendoff that I meant to record before last semester started (and before I owned Logic), I’m considering doing an acoustic cover of “Going Away to College” by blink-182. I’ll probably lay something down and possibly finish it at school tomorrow.
What will I find? Some sacred thing to help me handle the tragedy? Or did I once-did I have it and lose it? No one should ever have to walk through the fire alone. No one should ever have to brave that storm. No, everybody needs someone or something. And when I sing, don’t I sing your name out right at the same time that I sing my own? Some days I swear I can feel you splitting the light through the window frame. The shapes it makes are always warmer, always brighter than the rest of what comes through. Some days I swear I can hear you sing to me or whisper my name in the slightest way. It’s like the warmest light now laid across my bedroom floor is somehow actually you and not just sunlight. I have the memory climb down the balcony. I put a flower on the back of its dress. It’s probably best to forget it, it’s probably best to let go. I paint it the shade of where the skin and the lip meet, only a moment after breaking the kiss and I blur out everything else. That’s how I choose to remember it. Some nights are a lot like the days, I lay awake too late, I watch the shadows casted, trace your shape, those silver slivers on the wall then on the bedsheets. I hear your song in the trees, I finally fall into rest. Often later, when I’m sleeping, you show up in my dreams, just doing simple things, like buying groceries, and when I wake up, I could swear you must’ve just left me, like you got up to make breakfast or maybe just to get dressed. But the truth is, you were never there, you won’t ever be. Sometimes I think I’m not either. So what do I do when every day still seems to start and end with you? And you won’t ever know, you won’t ever see, how much your ghost since then, has been defining me. I leave the memory up atop the balcony. I tear this flower from the back of the dress. It’s best this time, I bet, to just forget and let go. Paint it the shade of where the lip bleeds and blur it out. I blur out everything else, just blur out everything else and let go, and let go, and let go. Everybody has to let go someday, everybody has to let go. I wonder when I will, I wonder. But if I still hear you singing in every city I meet after I blur it all out, our every memory, if you never fade with the days, your shape still haunting me then, should I not just sing along? Should I not just sing along? I will sing sweetly, hope that the notes change but I do not need it to happen. I’m not resigned to it, and, if they never do, I’ll sing your name in every line, just like I did throughout this, just like I’ve always done. In every gun, the empty church, and every tortured son, in all those giving up, in all those giving in, until I die, I will sing our names in unison. Until I die I will sing our names in unison.
Actually what was supposed to happen with the "favorite metal" question was you would answer with a type of metal, as in music, and I would say "no silly i meant metal as in elements like zinc and diamonds" but you're too smart to fall for the setup for my jokes ;)
Ah shucks. Dammit. I’d have to go with thrash though ;D