I wanna hold you but my hands are tied
I wanna stay here but I've been denied
I wanna lie here til we've killed this bitter doubt

I wanna hold you but my hands are tied
I wanna stay here but I've been denied
Let's watch the clock until the morning sun does rise

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i'm a nerd

David wrote these songs about us . . . he told me so ( Read more... )

Pushing thru the market square, so many mothers sighing ( Read more... )

It was a night of excess. We will pay the price I am sure. All the walking, and the violent expulsions of hot vomit onto the cool sidewalk. The words shared . . .

Freaknik this year was off the heazy. I'm exhausted in the most beaautiful sense of the word.

I'm leaving Buenos Aires. As much as I enjoyed the spectacularly decadent nightlife, I will not miss the taint of death that hangs around central and south american cities ( Read more... )

The evening went well. The new fugue was immense. Of course it takes a rare being to really appreciate funerary composition, but I am, alas, such a man. The velvety darkness of the cathedral hummed with minor vibrations long after the organ finished its playing, and I sat, entranced, feeling not quite human.