Not sure why this song pops up in my head. But randomly on my play list and now on here.
Meg and Dia - Indiana
I can do whatever I want like you
I can do whatever I want like you
I can do whatever I want like you
Like You
She began to die
Indiana that's not right
Indiana that's not right
She began to fight
Indiana make it mine
Indiana make it mine
So pale and white
So inclined to do what 's right
Colonel sir, I feel lonely tonight
She's strong but an obedient wife
I can do whatever I want like you
I can do whatever I want like you
I can do whatever I want like you
Like You
She began to die
Indiana that's not right
Indiana that's not right
She began to fight
Indiana make it mine
Indiana make it mine
Such honest eyes
No time to run and ride
Colonel sir I feel lonely tonight
She's strong but her mind is losing light
I can do whatever I want like you
I can do whatever I want like you
I can do whatever I want like you
Like You
She began to die
Indiana that's not right
Indiana that's not right
She began to fight
Indiana make it mine
Indiana make it mine
I know, I know
She's alone
I know, I know
She's alone
Alone
She began to die
(I can do whatever I want like you)
That's not right you know
(I can do whatever I want oh no)
Indiana that's not right
(I can do whatever I want like you)
She began to fight
(I can do whatever I want like you)
Indiana make it mine
Indiana make it mine
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
It Might Rain
It looks like it might rain today. I'm always tempted to run in the rain as it falls. Maybe I'll go lay in the park under it... Everyone always carries umbrellas... what's so bad about the rain?
Dear Rain,
I love you.
Your dry friend,
Thomas
Dear Rain,
I love you.
Your dry friend,
Thomas
Thomas...
Thomas would like to know...
Why am i still looking at things that don't involve me and wondering if maybe they did...
Maybe if I see a picture or a "thing" and wonder if maybe I was in the background, maybe if the person thought of me once, them maybe... just maybe... i would exist... to that person.
Why did I think that you were only looking at me... because you were, but not how I thought you were. I thought you stared at me and didn't see anyone else... now I know that you stared at me.. but just the same as you saw everyone else. It's always more magical to think that you are something special... sometimes you just aren't.
Why no one ever hears him... I'm not going to tell you what you want to hear, but maybe what's more important is what you actually need to hear?
Why you never called back...
Why he decided that it was a good idea to reveal all...
Why his mother went a little crazy and never seemed to connect again. She says it was alcohol, but she never drank... she says everyone else is crazy... but she's just the same... sometimes I wonder who I'm really calling for...
Why it's so hard to get out of bed sometimes, why is 9 hours just not long enough to rest the head...
When will Final Fantasy 13 actually come out... it is time for another distraction.... sometime else to keep his minds eye blind for a bit.
Thomas would like to know why it's so hard to say "I Love you" and mean it. I can see his imprint on the couch.. and I love it... I can feel his face near mine.. and I love it... I can feel him holding me... and I love it... I can feel him being silly and laughing.... and I love it.... and I still sit here afraid... afraid... afraid.... that I might like it???
Thomas would like to know... everything... when things get easier, when they fall off... when they are settle, when enough is enough.....
Thomas would like to know, but he'd rather not ask.... when will I die? will i look back and say it were a happy death?
Why am i still looking at things that don't involve me and wondering if maybe they did...
Maybe if I see a picture or a "thing" and wonder if maybe I was in the background, maybe if the person thought of me once, them maybe... just maybe... i would exist... to that person.
Why did I think that you were only looking at me... because you were, but not how I thought you were. I thought you stared at me and didn't see anyone else... now I know that you stared at me.. but just the same as you saw everyone else. It's always more magical to think that you are something special... sometimes you just aren't.
Why no one ever hears him... I'm not going to tell you what you want to hear, but maybe what's more important is what you actually need to hear?
Why you never called back...
Why he decided that it was a good idea to reveal all...
Why his mother went a little crazy and never seemed to connect again. She says it was alcohol, but she never drank... she says everyone else is crazy... but she's just the same... sometimes I wonder who I'm really calling for...
Why it's so hard to get out of bed sometimes, why is 9 hours just not long enough to rest the head...
When will Final Fantasy 13 actually come out... it is time for another distraction.... sometime else to keep his minds eye blind for a bit.
Thomas would like to know why it's so hard to say "I Love you" and mean it. I can see his imprint on the couch.. and I love it... I can feel his face near mine.. and I love it... I can feel him holding me... and I love it... I can feel him being silly and laughing.... and I love it.... and I still sit here afraid... afraid... afraid.... that I might like it???
Thomas would like to know... everything... when things get easier, when they fall off... when they are settle, when enough is enough.....
Thomas would like to know, but he'd rather not ask.... when will I die? will i look back and say it were a happy death?
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Recently on the Same Team
I'm always so great at giving people advice, at telling them exactly how I see it. I wish I were able to step outside myself and look inward to see my own situations objectively.
Someone I love greatly is dating someone that I don't necessarily think is on the same plane as her. She is a very strong individual and has great energy around herself. Her life is frantic, and she still floats above it and I think finds ways to laugh. But I also see her weaknesses and how she needs someone to back her up, hold her, be on her team and in the same game. I think she can stand fine on her own, but who doesn't want a relationship filled with support and filled with the ideal of finding happiness for yourself as great as happiness for the other person? I realize this isn't the 70's, but doesn't it kind of just fall into the same category as respect for eachother? I'm afraid that she will fall into the same trap that her parents did, and eventually find herself at a crossroads and look back thinking she maybe should have not held on so close. I pray I am wrong, because above all else I want her happiness. I think I've said most of these things to her, mainly that I just don't think he is "right" for her.
Why does it feel as though if someone isn't "right", then someone has to be "wrong"?
I used to believe that life was about finding one person and sticking with that person forever, and ever. Then for a while I thought maybe life is just about continuous random meetings and that maybe things don't have to last forever. Now.. now I just don't know what I believe anymore. I still have my head wrapped around this fairy tale idea, but maybe that's why it's called a fairy tale and not a reality idea. Is it possible that relationships are never even close to "perfect" and that you really do have to work a lot at them? Is love about a commitment, a choice, an emotion, or a settling? How do you know which is which?
I wish I could step outside myself and look at my life. Perhaps I could see myself as blocks and just move them around a bit, maybe I could make the picture make a small amount of sense more. Maybe I could stop myself from getting so angry so quick, from allowing myself to have my emotions determined by someone else. Part of me thinks that given the chance I'd just erase everyone and everything from my life and start over. Start over fresh and with no apologizes, no regrets, no fear. Above all else, no fear.
If I knew what the "right" move was, I'd make it. If I knew what the outcome of everything was going to be, I'm sleep better.
Sometimes I just want to pack up and leave New York City, no idea where I'd go. At least some place where I could walk down the street and not know anyone. But if you can't do that in New York City, where can you?
Someone I love greatly is dating someone that I don't necessarily think is on the same plane as her. She is a very strong individual and has great energy around herself. Her life is frantic, and she still floats above it and I think finds ways to laugh. But I also see her weaknesses and how she needs someone to back her up, hold her, be on her team and in the same game. I think she can stand fine on her own, but who doesn't want a relationship filled with support and filled with the ideal of finding happiness for yourself as great as happiness for the other person? I realize this isn't the 70's, but doesn't it kind of just fall into the same category as respect for eachother? I'm afraid that she will fall into the same trap that her parents did, and eventually find herself at a crossroads and look back thinking she maybe should have not held on so close. I pray I am wrong, because above all else I want her happiness. I think I've said most of these things to her, mainly that I just don't think he is "right" for her.
Why does it feel as though if someone isn't "right", then someone has to be "wrong"?
I used to believe that life was about finding one person and sticking with that person forever, and ever. Then for a while I thought maybe life is just about continuous random meetings and that maybe things don't have to last forever. Now.. now I just don't know what I believe anymore. I still have my head wrapped around this fairy tale idea, but maybe that's why it's called a fairy tale and not a reality idea. Is it possible that relationships are never even close to "perfect" and that you really do have to work a lot at them? Is love about a commitment, a choice, an emotion, or a settling? How do you know which is which?
I wish I could step outside myself and look at my life. Perhaps I could see myself as blocks and just move them around a bit, maybe I could make the picture make a small amount of sense more. Maybe I could stop myself from getting so angry so quick, from allowing myself to have my emotions determined by someone else. Part of me thinks that given the chance I'd just erase everyone and everything from my life and start over. Start over fresh and with no apologizes, no regrets, no fear. Above all else, no fear.
If I knew what the "right" move was, I'd make it. If I knew what the outcome of everything was going to be, I'm sleep better.
Sometimes I just want to pack up and leave New York City, no idea where I'd go. At least some place where I could walk down the street and not know anyone. But if you can't do that in New York City, where can you?
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Under Construction
I've been meaning to update, to write, and I haven't. I was going to put up an UNDER CONSTRUCTION sign, but then it hit me. It's not the site that's "under construction", it's me.
I can write about tears, heart break, what if feels like to be alone, want love, anger, and hardship. Basically anything that might be hard for most people to express or feel comfortable saying out loud. I'm not normal in this sense. I'm very in touch with my emotional triggers that cause fear, pain, anguish, sadness. I DON'T KNOW HOW TO WRITE ABOUT BEING HAPPY. I don't how to put into words how great it feels to just be happy and content. What it feels like to be able to sleep at night and not worry about tomorrow. I have trouble finding words for what it feels like when someone else beings a smile to your face; what it feels like to feel cared for and taken care of. I DON'T KNOW HOW TO WRITE ABOUT BEING HAPPY. So I've hit a wall, I've connected to parts of myself that I've not yet really experienced and I'm still learning how to transfer them and express them...
I don't write about butterflies
but sometimes I see them
I don't write about silence in the morning
and how I love to sit in it
I don't write about the warmth and comfort of being held
but I love it
I don't write about how I laughingly force people to watch MY favorite shows
even when I know they hate them
I don't write about rainbows and kittens
but I do wish I had a cat
and rainbows really wouldn't match my apartment
I don't write about being happy
because I don't know how.
For now it's not just me and my ganja.
I can write about tears, heart break, what if feels like to be alone, want love, anger, and hardship. Basically anything that might be hard for most people to express or feel comfortable saying out loud. I'm not normal in this sense. I'm very in touch with my emotional triggers that cause fear, pain, anguish, sadness. I DON'T KNOW HOW TO WRITE ABOUT BEING HAPPY. I don't how to put into words how great it feels to just be happy and content. What it feels like to be able to sleep at night and not worry about tomorrow. I have trouble finding words for what it feels like when someone else beings a smile to your face; what it feels like to feel cared for and taken care of. I DON'T KNOW HOW TO WRITE ABOUT BEING HAPPY. So I've hit a wall, I've connected to parts of myself that I've not yet really experienced and I'm still learning how to transfer them and express them...
I don't write about butterflies
but sometimes I see them
I don't write about silence in the morning
and how I love to sit in it
I don't write about the warmth and comfort of being held
but I love it
I don't write about how I laughingly force people to watch MY favorite shows
even when I know they hate them
I don't write about rainbows and kittens
but I do wish I had a cat
and rainbows really wouldn't match my apartment
I don't write about being happy
because I don't know how.
For now it's not just me and my ganja.
Monday, February 16, 2009
2 Slices
She's Not in the Plane
I used to play in the backyard with my sister. Ever time a plane would fly by, I'd look to the sky, point and tell her that it was my aunt watching. Flying by just to check on us. She had a great job in a big city, so she couldn't come around anymore. My sister would always tell me I was wrong, it wasn't her, and she was not in that plane. She would say that my aunt didnt care, and that's why she stopped coming around. At 7 years old I knew I was right, my aunt was in that plane, she desperatly wanted to see us, but something was holding her back. At 24, I know I was wrong, my sister was right, and my aunt had cheased to care.
No Connections
I'm working a party in midtown Manhattan. A little boy showed me his Star Wars toy. Darth Vadar, his favorite, is the voice of James Earl Jones. He then tells me his grandmother used to date James Earl Jones. She wanted to marry him and he said no. It just hit me, this 6 year old has more connections then I do. My life sucks.
I used to play in the backyard with my sister. Ever time a plane would fly by, I'd look to the sky, point and tell her that it was my aunt watching. Flying by just to check on us. She had a great job in a big city, so she couldn't come around anymore. My sister would always tell me I was wrong, it wasn't her, and she was not in that plane. She would say that my aunt didnt care, and that's why she stopped coming around. At 7 years old I knew I was right, my aunt was in that plane, she desperatly wanted to see us, but something was holding her back. At 24, I know I was wrong, my sister was right, and my aunt had cheased to care.
No Connections
I'm working a party in midtown Manhattan. A little boy showed me his Star Wars toy. Darth Vadar, his favorite, is the voice of James Earl Jones. He then tells me his grandmother used to date James Earl Jones. She wanted to marry him and he said no. It just hit me, this 6 year old has more connections then I do. My life sucks.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
No Longer Seated
You've always sat there in your silence
Unnerved
Unmoved
But we all know you're just unstable
Too thoughtful to live
Too concerned to breathe
Unbelievable
And silent
It's this sad calmness
And I'll never see myself that way
Alone in the coner
You told me I'm the one that doesn't know
You just don't know me
I'm more found then lost
I'm louder then quieter
And more vengenful then possible
I'm crafty and possesive
I'm all knowing and careless
Isn't that what makes you want me
You've always sat there in your silence
Waiting for the right moment to rise
Be heard and no longer simply seen
So it begins
So it begins
Unnerved
Unmoved
But we all know you're just unstable
Too thoughtful to live
Too concerned to breathe
Unbelievable
And silent
It's this sad calmness
And I'll never see myself that way
Alone in the coner
You told me I'm the one that doesn't know
You just don't know me
I'm more found then lost
I'm louder then quieter
And more vengenful then possible
I'm crafty and possesive
I'm all knowing and careless
Isn't that what makes you want me
You've always sat there in your silence
Waiting for the right moment to rise
Be heard and no longer simply seen
So it begins
So it begins
Saturday, February 7, 2009
I'll Think About You, But I Won't Tell You
I'll Think About You, But I Won't Tell You
It's true. I'll have opinions and stories to always share, but when it comes down to it, I write a lot of things to get them out of my body. I write and share a lot of things to simply release them, but almost in a passive aggressive way. What would happen I wonder if the people I choose to write about actually knew that I was, or what they would think if I actually told them to their faces what I think about them. It wouldn't be nearly as interesting, I mean, I'd probably come off an insane, and I can do that anyways. Mostly I write for the moment and I can't imagine calling these people every time I had a different emotion and exploding on them. I would probably label myself clinical at that point as well. On the same card though, I know a few people read this blog that specific bits are about. One of them asks me about them and I love it. I love that he would even read the things that are about him and still want to talk to me or be a part of my life. Although if someone were writing so openly about me I'd want to read it. I can also say, I've never posted anything on here to hurt anyone, or directed negatively towards someone. Have I wrote pieces like that, yes. Multiple times. Recently I wrote a blog about the worst blow job I've ever gotten. One of my friends called me and told me how I should post the guys picture next to it and exploit everything about him. Obviously, this is nothing I would ever do, but the idea made me laugh. I have a dark sense of humor, so it makes sense.
This is getting off track and basically what I mean to say is that although putting my thoughts out there is a great release, I think telling the people I write about the same way I feel would be even better. But I never will. I am obsessed with how people see me. Not in the way that I want to be any particular thing to anyone, but more so that I love to see and hear how people perceive me. It is usually pretty far off base from how I see myself, I think that's normal though. No one else can obviously hear the dialogue in ones head as well as the person having it. So with that said, I heard this song Chasing Pavements by Adele the other day, and it reminded me of all these things. Spacifically the lyrics below.
"If i tell the world,
I'll never say enough,
Cause it was not said to you,
And thats exactly what i need to do."
It's true. I'll have opinions and stories to always share, but when it comes down to it, I write a lot of things to get them out of my body. I write and share a lot of things to simply release them, but almost in a passive aggressive way. What would happen I wonder if the people I choose to write about actually knew that I was, or what they would think if I actually told them to their faces what I think about them. It wouldn't be nearly as interesting, I mean, I'd probably come off an insane, and I can do that anyways. Mostly I write for the moment and I can't imagine calling these people every time I had a different emotion and exploding on them. I would probably label myself clinical at that point as well. On the same card though, I know a few people read this blog that specific bits are about. One of them asks me about them and I love it. I love that he would even read the things that are about him and still want to talk to me or be a part of my life. Although if someone were writing so openly about me I'd want to read it. I can also say, I've never posted anything on here to hurt anyone, or directed negatively towards someone. Have I wrote pieces like that, yes. Multiple times. Recently I wrote a blog about the worst blow job I've ever gotten. One of my friends called me and told me how I should post the guys picture next to it and exploit everything about him. Obviously, this is nothing I would ever do, but the idea made me laugh. I have a dark sense of humor, so it makes sense.
This is getting off track and basically what I mean to say is that although putting my thoughts out there is a great release, I think telling the people I write about the same way I feel would be even better. But I never will. I am obsessed with how people see me. Not in the way that I want to be any particular thing to anyone, but more so that I love to see and hear how people perceive me. It is usually pretty far off base from how I see myself, I think that's normal though. No one else can obviously hear the dialogue in ones head as well as the person having it. So with that said, I heard this song Chasing Pavements by Adele the other day, and it reminded me of all these things. Spacifically the lyrics below.
"If i tell the world,
I'll never say enough,
Cause it was not said to you,
And thats exactly what i need to do."
New Blog, MeAndMySexBlog.com
In an effort to keep this blog separate from the new ideas I have, I have started a new one. And yes, it is all about sex. This blog will still be housing my poetry, pictures, paintings, blah blah. But feel free to check out the other as well.
All the best,
Thomas
http://www.MeAndMySexBlog.com
All the best,
Thomas
http://www.MeAndMySexBlog.com
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
You Suck
You Suck
Disillusionment lead me to compelling understanding
It took me a few broken bones
And a couple empty waterfalls
A few inreconizable gestures
And it all falls down to this
You suck
It's true
You suck
And it must suck to be you
You suck
It's true
Fuck, it sucks just to know you
You've got these ever grabbing chains
And something about you kinetic
Gripping and crippling
Honestly, I'd like to bash your head in
I'd like to see you in pain
Just to know you can feel something more then for yourself
And it all falls down to this
Where you tumbled off the wall and broke your little crown
You suck
It's true
You suck
And it must suck to be you
You suck
It's true
Fuck, it sucks just to know you
I think I'd like to kill you
Half the time I'd like to fuck you
Half the time you don't exist
A quarter of the time I think you're insensative and have no soul
All the time
All the time i'm in love with you
You suck
It's true
You suck
And it must suck to be you
You suck
It's true
You suck
Fuck, it sucks to even know you.
Disillusionment lead me to compelling understanding
It took me a few broken bones
And a couple empty waterfalls
A few inreconizable gestures
And it all falls down to this
You suck
It's true
You suck
And it must suck to be you
You suck
It's true
Fuck, it sucks just to know you
You've got these ever grabbing chains
And something about you kinetic
Gripping and crippling
Honestly, I'd like to bash your head in
I'd like to see you in pain
Just to know you can feel something more then for yourself
And it all falls down to this
Where you tumbled off the wall and broke your little crown
You suck
It's true
You suck
And it must suck to be you
You suck
It's true
Fuck, it sucks just to know you
I think I'd like to kill you
Half the time I'd like to fuck you
Half the time you don't exist
A quarter of the time I think you're insensative and have no soul
All the time
All the time i'm in love with you
You suck
It's true
You suck
And it must suck to be you
You suck
It's true
You suck
Fuck, it sucks to even know you.
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