scrawls.

scrawls

still cheaper than therapy*

29.4.06

american pie: complete edition

a long long time ago i can still remember how that music used to make me smile and i knew if i had my chance that i could make those people dance and maybe theyd be happy for a while but febuary made me shiver with every paper i delivered bad news on the doorstep i couldnt take one more step i cant remember if i cried when i read about his widowed bride but something touched me deep inside the day the music died so bye bye miss american pie drove my chevy to the levee but the levee was dry and good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye singin thisll be the day that i die thisll be the day that i die did you write the book of love and do you have faith in god above if the bible tells you so now do you believe in rock and roll can music save your mortal soul and can ya teach me how to dance real sloow well i know that youre in love with him cuz i saw you dancing in the gym you both kicked off your shoes man i dig those rhythm and blues woo i was a lonely teenage broncin buck with a pink carnation and a pickup truck but i knew i was out of luck the day the music died i started singin bye bye miss american pie drove my chevy to the levee but the levee was dry and good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye singin thisll be the day that i die thisll be the day that i die now for ten years weve been on our own and moss grows fat on a rolling stone but thats not how it used to be when the jester sang for the king and queen in a coat he borrowed from james dean and a voice that came from you and me o and while the king was lookin down the jester stole his thorny crown the court room was adjourned no verdict was returned and while lenin read the book of marx the quartet practised in the park and we sang dirges in the dark the day the music died we were singin bye bye miss american pie drove my chevy to the levee but the levee was dry and good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye singin thisll be the day that i die thisll be the day that i die helter skelter in the summer swelter the birds flew off with a fallout shelter eight miles high and falling faaaaast it landed foul on the grass the players tried for a forward pass with the jester on the sidelines in a cast now the halftime air was sweet perfume while the seargents played a marching tune we all got up to dance aaww but we never got the chance cuz the players tried to take the field the marching band refused to yield do you recall what was revealed the day the music died we started singin bye bye miss american pie drove my chevy to the levee but the levee was dry and good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye singin thisll be the day that i die thisll be the day that i die o and there we were all in one place a generation lost in space with no time left to start again so come on jack be nimble jack be quick jack flash sat on a candlestick 'cause fire is the devil's only friend o and as i watched him on the stage my hands were clenched in fists of rage no angel born in hell could break that satan's spell and as the flames climbed high into the night to light the sacrificial rite i saw satan laughing with delight the day the music died he was singin bye bye miss american pie drove my chevy to the levy but the levy was dry and good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye singin thisll be the day that i die thisll be the day that i die i met a girl who sang the blues and i asked her for some happy news but she just smiled and turned away i went down to the sacred store where id heard the music years before but the man there said the music wouldnt play... and in the streets the children screamed the lovers cried and the poets dreamed but not a word was spoken the church bells all were broken and the three men i admire most the father son and the holy ghost they caught the last train for the coast the day the music died. and they were singin, bye bye miss american pie drove my chevy to the levy but the levy was dry and good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye singin thisll be the day that i die thisll be the day that i die they were singin bye bye miss american pie drove my chevy to the levy but the levy was dry the good ole boys were drinkin whiskey and rye singin thisll be the day that i die.

Labels: media

scrawled @ 17:22

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26.4.06

I LOVE WEDDINGS

and, Berries and Cream Dr Pepper tastes like ice cream. Cream-soda-like. And not in a bad way, either. (though, seriously, in what bad way could one compare someting to cream soda?)

scrawled @ 20:15

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24.4.06

just don't.

it is not my place to judge people. Not the people that watch ESPN and not the people that don't get their dogs fixed and not the people who like modern art and not the people that vote for the president and not the people who get plastic surgery and not the people that don't immunize and not the people that believe the Turkish government when they say there wasn't a genocide and not the people that are brainwashed into Scientology and not the people who wear plaid with checks and not the people who are paper-doll thin. Not the white trash couple across the airplane aisle that actually swear at their kids and that are, really, acting almost more childish than the kids themselves, one doubts that pretending you're two would work when your daughter is, what, seven, because if you've got two kids and you're throwing a temper tantrum then that's really sure to be effective and a good example, right, and oh, yes, it's great that the two of your clothes are all matchy-matchy and pink, and it's lovely that you care about appearances but notwithstanding that you are actually cussing at your newborn like you think that'll make a difference. it's not fair to think, even to myself, that if she spent as much time with her child as she did on her hair, because maybe she can fancy-French-braid in thirty seconds flat. you never know. Their crosses to bear are not my crosses to bear. as i don't have any kids, let alone their kids, i am so obviously not qualified. so i am going to sit here across the airplane aisle and read my book and not say a damn thing and do my absolute best to ignore them all. tags:white trash

scrawled @ 17:18

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18.4.06

already

i am trying to think of the things i will miss. tiny mexican tortilla ladies. people wearing shorts in january. rivers. are there fields full of wildflowers in austria? there must be. the ghost towns you drive through with the still-regal burnt-out buildings, roof open to the sky, still indestructible. desperate tin-roofed shanties. arts and crafts bungalows. frank lloyd wright. carnegie libraries. cow pastures in the middle of town. Austin Grand Prize salsa. guacamole. in texas everything is bigger: there is a sense of space, of having enough room, but cities, and apartments, without yards, without trees, without square footage. air to breathe. wide-open sky, without any alps in. everything is so far away - it's very pensive. wild grapes and indian paintbrush on the roadside. being a citizen. speaking a language i have known all my life. sheer command of the idiom: i will never be a native German speaker. the ability to make small talk, to connect. the ease of putting the dogs outside in the morning, the deck, the yard. The house. i'll never be a first-time homeowner again.

we have a meeting with a realtor in two days: it might be easier, better, to sell now and rent somewhere until december. While the yard is mowed.

in vienna, i don't want to attatch, now, to other americans. just for the simplicity of home. i worry that it will become inevitable. i want to move to this other place, and live as this other place, and i wonder if the american in me is absolutely indelible. i think it might be. but to move to another continent and then fix onto only other americans would be cheating.

if i am not a big fat loud american now, will i miss it later? tags:texas

scrawled @ 19:44

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15.4.06

here there is canoeing and it'll be in the high 80s. decent bathing-suit weather really. it gets below 70 at night but not by much. at the wedding next weekend in seattle it will be in the 50s. in chicago the following weekend it appears to be forecast in the low 60s. This? Is not what i plan my wedding outfits around. i. am going. to freeze.

scrawled @ 04:35

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14.4.06

just for the record

it's a good thing i like joyce. maybe it shows. and i'm glad i know this, now. i'm more than halfway through: not done yet. Thing is getting more dog-eared-er and raggedy-looking by the day and every single time i put it in a suitcase i scuff it up more. i shoulda known not to buy an eight hundred page (oh, sorry, 783 page) paperback.

i think the minute i'm done i'm going to start again. tags:ulysses

scrawled @ 16:15

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born awhatnow?

when there used to be a person that one knew, and instead of dying, which one knows perfectly well how to deal with, by now, sadly enough, thanks anyway, and moving on, that person became Born Again, what are the theological implications of this? is the person one used to know still considered to exist, or has it been annulled, like all those Catholic marriages that suddenly never happened? does the rebirthing process void all previous interaction as it is claimed to void all sin, particularly if a large part of the previous interaction would certainly be classified as christian sin in the first place, on their part, at least if that is the sort of thing one believes in? it's not only that one doesn't know, now, who they are or why they made this decision: if you're born again, do you kill off your previous self? what happens to it? how big of a disjoint is it spiritually supposed to be?

when a person dies one can still hold memories of them: nobody tells you you're not supposed to; nobody is surprised if you're happy or sad or angry or wistful or whatever. however. if someone is born again they'll tell you that's not who i am any more and quite honestly how is one supposed to deal with them if the entity one used to know is now invalid? is it just a re-start, hi my name is? or can there be an allowance for what came before?

to get a little more specific. how can i forgive someone that will no longer be recognized as anything but a figment of my own imagination? how is that fair? I WANT COSMIC JUSTICE.

p.s. my karma ran over your dogma. oops. sorry. tags:born again

scrawled @ 15:37

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12.4.06

note to self: j-horror fucks me up. why do i want more? god save us from More Shitty Remakes. tags: an american haunting

scrawled @ 19:01

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11.4.06

vanity fair

does it make me a bad person, or just a realistic one, if, upon seeing a size-2-and-yet-6-feet-tall girl-with-a-pushup-bra who-is-so-trying-too-hard and hasn't-eaten-in-a-week, i look at the ground and smirk and think, no matter what you do, your tits will never be as fabulous as mine? i love it when people make me feel good about my body. tags:my milkshake

scrawled @ 16:09

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10.4.06

i almost feel like i'm bulimic.

after bringing two giant boxes of clothes and shoes and stuff to the Salvation Army fairly recently we were putting away laundry last night and i cannot believe how many fucking clothes i have. i feel the need to purge. violently. i still have all this crap. why should it be so hard to get rid of? how has it all managed to get into my closet without my realizing it? how many times have i moved all this stuff? is it greedy to save it for a garage sale next month before visiting the Salvation Army again, if i am a consumerist bastard with an income well over the poverty line and cannot even pretend that i might need the dollar i could maybe get for that ancient, yet still highly functional, pair of sneakers? and if i have a new pair of sneakers and plan to never wear the old ones again, and they're obviously old and grubby and have Seen Their Day but continue to be basically presentable, are they decent enough that the Salvation Army even wants them? At what point do the mud-encrusted river sandals become un-donatable, seeing as how i could probably scrub them off if i got a new toothbrush? is it really okay to just throw things away? and how can one tell, if one has an old pair of cutoffs, if someone might be able to put them to use, or if they should just go to the county dump, especially if you see people wearing entirely less appropriate things? there were two hurricanes here last year. but at what point does it become beneath their dignity to accept certain pre-owned items? and how can i know if it's rude to even ask? my inner envirohippie far prefers goodwill to contributing to the actual trash. but some things just have to be condescending. tags:bad quaker, bulimic consumerism

scrawled @ 17:17

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7.4.06

it's going to be one of those mornings in which i get to be my own fortress.

oh, great.

scrawled @ 15:55

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5.4.06

some people? crave chocolate.

i? NEED a haircut.

scrawled @ 23:43

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So we're at the bar blah blah blah blah blah with some euro-asian types blah blah blah blah blah as is our wont, really blah blah blah and we quite often blah blah blah discuss our widely assorted cultures blah blah blah blah blah and eventually blah blah blah someone blah blah blah blah blah someone French blah blah blah blah blah blah blah comes up with the phrase blah blah blah blah like Coldplay and Phil Collins.

i cannot recall what Coldplay and Phil Collins have in common. However, if you snorted milk out your nose just there, let me know. Alternately, if you can think of a way to describe to assorted non-american sorts of people why or how this is simply so fucking funny - and maybe you had to be there, but again, Coldplay and Phil Collins - honestly i have no way of knowing at this point - i'm sorry, i can't make my synapses do this any more. Serotonin out.

scrawled @ 04:02

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4.4.06

Fifteen years.

scrawled @ 15:53

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3.4.06

so v makes a very fine movie?

the austin land and cattle company makes a damn fine steak. And the company makes it even better. tags: austin

scrawled @ 16:32

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