I've been completely obsessed with the song "Dear Chicago" by Ryan Adams. I didn't just hear it for the first time, I just heard it for the first time. One of my favourite things about music (a list too long to scribe) is the way an old song will suddenly grab you, like it isn't old at all.

Never thought I'd feel so blue
New York, you're almost gone
( Read more... )

( Read more... )

I dreamt of you last night; I willed it.
I thought that it would help.
But I
woke up and my poor heart had fled my chest.

 I dyed my hair the other day but
woke up and was still the same.

Yes, all right, so I'm a liar. Those hands, that mouth - those hands! - they've made a liar out of me.

 
You said -i'll get inside you one way
or another- and you dug in
and you made yourself a home.

So what, you foiled me once. I am leaving you behind.

I am watching the CMAs
because country music comforts me these days
inasmuch as it reminds me of you.
God, help me. 

 I have always held that one
cannot miss what one has never known
always until now, I
mean.

These kinds of times, they steal their toll and in peace's absence I
crave havoc. Vodka as a complement to audacity; persisting sleeplessness on a
caffeine fulcrum; naked bathing in your cigarrette&cologne smell. And I'm not
where you want to be. But come on, baby, come, I'm begging. Serve me rapture
with my self-destruction.

Tonight the moon was
so bright
if you'd looked at me for even a second
I could've seen your face again.