We have no collection, which explains why we have no stained windows or polished pews or twenty-foot organ pipes. But I do try so hard. Even though we're not in the Hall, I'm trying so hard to focus on His exaltation. I follow conducting hands for our que, 'Cantate ei, cantate ei!' Christ, I'm trying! And I'm trying to focus on the fact that this ( Read more... )

There's no underlying meaning to swordfighting past midnight, or why she's hardly drinking, or how he furrows his eyebrows and whispers a plea for ice cubes. It's not profound, it's just the weekend. And the only possible underlay in when she jumps over me and says whatever she even said in that way she says those sort of things, is how badly my ( Read more... )

I'll give you a hint. We got it at North Redington and now it's going right into your ears. That's right. And these tiny studs, which I did my finest to fashion into memento, are the best I can do to thank you for not looking at me like you haven't got anything to say.

With nothing to say, I'm specifically staying up just because I feel like Tuesday, and maybe I'm feeling like I'd like a Tuesday entry. Because I can't wait to get up in like five hours, take my first sip of tea over our morning conversation, and pray so hard that the minutes before one-fifteen could be cut down by at least seventy-five percent. ( Read more... )

I assume you found the emphasized 'good' inside your doorframe on friday. Through all the good and total lightness of the weekend, I'm looking through pictures wondering, do we even try? Do we even have to try? I don't think you can try at this young and carefree stuff, as she said from the backseat.

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I'm sure the suit I saw from the bus window, sitting in a tree with his tie undone by a man-made sewage reservoir that's supposed to be a lake, found nothing good about this friday. In all honesty, I wouldn't be at all surprised to find he killed himself. And I'm sure it's not because he mistook suicide for martyr.

Honestly, you're not annoying. This is my face smiling out of my control. And when you nod, assuming yourself a nuisance, and turn around in your desk, I'm still smiling.
You always say you see me, and I always see you. But I haven't happened to catch you seeing me, seeing you.
I just wish we were friends.

When I get down to the awkwardly penned signature heart, I can tell you're really trying. And when you say to try harder too, the best I can do is admit that I like this note thing, and that I like this movie thing, and that I like our little thing.

Across the hall, I catch a glimpse of one of the one hundred and forty-four thousand kneeling and taking a taste from the emblem. And I breathe, how cool! You're going to heaven. You're going to meet Jesus fucking Christ ( Read more... )