Walking By

i wrote another song today. my dad tells me that it’s good, because i get down what i’m feeling and it helps alleviate some of the pain. sometimes it gets to be too much, and i start writing, and next thing i know, i have lyrics. it kind of flows for me, i guess.

Walking By

And I don’t know what to do
When I see you walking with somebody new

You want me to live my life
But all I want is you
For a year my life was you

I guess I’ll take my chance
And walk right past
But then I see the smile on your face
And look for places to sit my body down

I can’t hide that I’m dying here
I’m missing you so bad
I remember all the times
All the dreams, and
All we had

You want me to live my life
You tell me to move on
But how can I continue by
Knowing that you’re gone

I don’t know why I’m trapped by memories
Or why I still need you here
But then it all comes back to haunt me —
How I loved you in that year

Such a fear of leaving
So near to pleading
The tears that we shed in each other’s arms

And I know
All I want is you
But now you’re walking by
With somebody new

Chinese Takeout

is probably the second best piece of fiction i've ever read.
it's the story of a starving artist who struggles, through scandalous breakups and near-bankruptcy, to make a name for himself, driven onward by his own series of symbolic paintings, his best work, long lost to the gallery-goers of new york city. along the way, he shows a doomed drug addict how to love, and the story closes with some of his amazing personal revelations.
arthur nersesian's writing never ceases to satisfy my appetite.

my personal soundtrack for the book:

"my sundown" -- jimmy eat world
"the moment i said it" -- imogen heap
"23" -- jimmy eat world
"she paints me blue" -- something corporate
"transatlanticism" -- death cab for cutie
"drugs or me" -- jimmy eat world

BORED OUT OF MY MIND

i wanna play ping pong this weekend, but nobody'll come.

geez.
(short entry, i know.)

Mmmm...Caffeine and Motrin.

i'm loaded up on caffeine, and i've been having headaches lately, so i'm carrying a motrin on me.
this is great. the coffee's just making me more tired. *exasperated sigh*
on the other hand, the music is good. *slight smile*

i spend a lot of my time in my head, i'm coming to realize. not much of it is spent having fun and partying.
i'm gonna throw a party when i publish my book. i'll need champage, chips, french onion dip, about a dozen or so copies of the book (hope the cover turns out cool), and a clean room. those last two could take a while. maybe in april i'll be close.

again, wish me luck.

"Knights of the Island Counter" by Dave Melillo

So we sit at this table
With our hands in our laps
And we have a few drinks
And we share a few laughs

But now those days have passed
And they're not coming back
It's a shame
'Cause that's all
That I had

CHORUS
And we'll sing out loud for hours
'Till the morning that we know we can't avoid
These nights are notable and priceless
I swear that every word I say
I mean until my dying day
It's a shame
When I wake I can't recall a thing
It's a shame
When I wake I can't recall a thing

So keep things quiet
'Till the rest of the street falls asleep
Then we'll break out
And show everyone just what we're made of

We're still young
Let's abuse our health
And have a little fun
I'll drink to that
Let's drink to that

CHORUS

I've got some problems
But we've got ten dollars
That's enough to get us wasted before
The night is over
These past five days
I've been completely sober
But tonight I'm getting ripped wide open
[x2]

"A Feeling Like Home" Update

the "low-standard' rough draft is coming along pretty well, though laura -- my main character's first girlfriend, of a sort -- needs some serious character development. so does sam. and so does jon. and so does everybody else.
"welcome to being a writer. here's a blank page. give me a masterpiece." this is basically what every prefectionist writer encounters when he first sets out: his high self-expectations conflicting with the utter hopelessness of his situation and the limitless potential of the blank page. i mean, look at what tolstoy and dumas and poe and doyle did with it; why can't i do that?

my friend, it's because you're just setting out.

Nowadays...

"look at us now" is going pretty well. i've got the guitar laid out, and i'm happy with it; it fits just about right.
i've also starting to think about resuming my latest book, "a feeling like home". it's funny how the idea came to me for it: i was listening to "rainy monday" by shiny toy guns and an image just popped into my head of what i instantly knew would be my ending. i filled in character names, asked "how did they get there?" and next thing you know, i had myself a story.
speak of the devil, the song is on right now. it's an amazing feel-good kind of thing. right now i am infinite.
don't know what that means? ask charlie. he should be able to tell you ("perks of being a wallflower" reference).

and melissa, my sister of non-relation, is amazing. don't ask me how i didn't realize until today. she speaks in a way you only know from the movies; writers have to squeeze this stuff out of their heads, while she manages it coloquially, with no effort at all. i swear, i'm putting her words in my book. i've got consent, and i'm not afraid to use it!
my quote of the day (via melissa): "I think that's all people really are. Just a bunch of things collected from different places and turned into themselves."

we're the intellectuals. nobody gets us, but we're here. other people can only hope to have conversations like ours.
and to think: it all started last year when, from across the room of our english class, she offered to get me out of my house and feed me cookies.

amazing.