You pulled at the strings, and they were broken it seemed

You and I, we make a grand salute
stare at eachother like lost little birds across the room
and I remember the way you looked
I learned how to dance, but I'd never shown it to you

my love,
I know I was wrong, but you know that you'll always be
my love
stay for a while while our leaves are still green
please, for me

I know I tried, but it's hard sometimes
the roots don't take, it takes a while
and you pull at the strings
but they're broken, it seems
the dance isn't over for me, no

my love,
I know I was wrong, but you know that you'll always be
my love
stay for a while while our leaves are still green
please, for me


http://www.myspace.com/basiamyspace

Who knew I liked having fun...

Last night. Great time. Went to the LUPEC USO event to benefit the woman's wing of the Shelter for Homeless Veterans. Great cocktails, nice treats and good music. Cara and I had a blast. Definitely got a little tipsy. Thanks to Tremont 647 for saving us from sure hypothermia and for the additional drinks and snacks. Fontina stuffed tater tots...yes please! Last night I did something I never thought I'd do. I ate an oyster. Now I understand these little creatures are somewhat of a big deal, but I have absolutely NO interest in ever eating one again. Chrissy will be with me on this one...salty snots in a half shell. ew

Testing out the camera, waiting for a cab, resembling those creepy twins in The Shining

Vwalla!

The Hall

Cara says peek-a-boo

You wish your hair was this shiny.

I need higher heels.

Thunder Thighs and Chicken Legs

Oh hello Cara's Fernet

Oh hello water.

Aaaaaaand Scene

Note To Self

Fix your life.

You look like shit.

Hey 28 Degrees....

Fuck You.

I don't need no doctor to tear me apart....I just need you to mend my heart

Another Sunday night in my apartment listening to music on the internet and spending more time than I need to on the world wide web. While I fully understand I could be taking this time to socialize with friends I don't see often, I am more than content being alone in my apartment listening to music and passing the time. Tonight I went a step further and with inspiration and a little direction from my absent roommate, I baked vegan banana bread. In 20 minutes I will know whether or not I'm a failure or a genius. Let's hope for the latter, shall we?

Here is an odd thing to think about. I feel like this blog, which is essentially an account of things that go on inside my head on a daily basis, was much more inspired when I was much more miserable. Now that my life in regards to my sanity and emotions have stabilized a bit, I feel like I don't really have much to write about. Sure, with more regular entries the silly daily occurrences I find myself having would be much more interesting I suppose. Maybe I'll try that...for the sake of my trio of regular readers - two confirmed, one that might just stumble upon this here rant from time to time.

Re-focusing on the matter at hand in the previous paragraph, I wonder if some of the "great" writers of our time or times past are so great because they are miserable. Sure, Sylvia Plath is an obvious example and I do not claimed to be well versed on modern literature and the lives of those that write it - but it seems like perhaps some of my personal favorite books/authors are kind of fucked up. Bret Easton Ellis is one of my favorites - Only author whose entire catalog I've read. He is totally bonkers. One of my favorite (albeit incredibly corny) books I've read this year was "Eat Pray Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert. I loved this book and found it incredibly inspirational, as I read it when I was so down in the dumps, I wasn't quite sure what was going to get me out. For the first time in my life I slightly considered taking anti-depressants. Quite glad I didn't go down that route - - but I digress. The author wrote that book during a nervous breakdown. Does it take being at rock bottom to create genius? Obviously not - look at that Candace lady and the Sex In The City books/series. One can say that is genius...or just genius marketing.

If I was teaching a college class on literature of this century I would totally assign something regarding the study of authors and their sanity or insanity during their careers, mostly because I'm too lazy to do the research myself and I'm very curious to see what is up with this.

My only inspiration lately comes from song lyrics. The amount of amazing singers, songwriters, lyricists out there is astounding. At least once a week I am moved by a line of a song. I know now that I'm okay, because these things don't make me cry like they did before, but it's nice to still feel something. Instead of self pity now, it is admiration for the folks writing the music and their great ability to put emotion into words. Not something I aspire to do, but I am thankful that others have.

I wonder if our DVD player minds being a footrest...

After a week with out internet, television or couches, I am slowly learning how to get comfortable in my newly empty home. The couches are gone. There is a coffee table and a small dining table where they once were. After a few minutes of sitting here typing, i will go ahead and retract my statement about being comfortable. This shit kind of sucks. Hopefully I can get my ass in gear and go find some furniture to fill this void...and yes, I mean that in every cliched way.


My stress level is nice and high. I'm being very productive and I'm overly motivated to save money, work harder, make more money and so on and so forth. I'll work 7 days a week..I don't care anymore. Socializing and relaxing are meaning less to me as the days go by. Unfortunately, neither job I work shows results of the intensity of ones desire to work a ton. If hardcore kids buy a bunch of records instead of none, that won't affect my salary. If more people would come and order expensive cocktails at my restaurant, that would be awesome. However, I can't force anyone to do this. Therefore I'm rendered motivated and ready to bust ass at the restaurant, but bored and underworked/underpaid. Might be time to move on to greener more lucrative pastures.

Someday I will work 60 hour work weeks and see the fruits of my labor. Someday.

I've wanted this blog to turn into less senseless babble from my brain and maybe exercise a more coherent and proper outlet for whatever writing skills I may possess. I've had an urge lately to write. Articles about music, interviews, opinion pieces...whatever. I have an issue with casual speaking within my writing. My issue is basically that it takes a little too much time to write a proper piece, and to be honest, these blog post come at my least focused and most emotionally desperate points. Sure, I don't feel like shit right now. Actually, I've been feeling happy lately. Perhaps that is why the entries have been scarce and slightly less dramatic.

At this point I've taken my rambling to a whole new level. I wish I could find a focus or a theme, other than how unfocused and incoherent I am. Perhaps that will just be the theme forever.

I've been home alone for a few days now. If anyone wants to come over and reassure me there aren't intruders in my house at all times, that would be awesome.

This post has taken me over an hour to write.

I thank and blame the following people for my awesome distractions:

Kim for Basia Bulat
My endless entertainer: bathrub.
Bon Iver/youtube