weary eyes

too much computer screen;
not enough books.

always hungry.

i love playing music with people, especially with people so like-minded.
i love my teachers (with the exception of those i do not even like).
i love long distances, i love short-sightedly.

oh, life is good.
i'm just not doing homework right now.
i'm sure you understand.

i hope this podcast takes off, and this wonderful band stays wonderful.
things are looking up for ol' liz lemon.

(also, i keep getting this psuedo-spam-bot comments about my "articles" and it is very strange and confusing. go away spam-bots! i am not interested in what you are selling, or whatever it is you are doing. i would just like to write on the internet without incident!)



my eye hurts. a whole lot.
i hope this isn't a big deal.

sometimes i get worried that ridiculous things will happen, like i'll go blind in one eye or something. of course, it's probably not that bad. if it is...well, consider this my moment of irony.

(an eye patch would be pretty cool, though.)


& other poems

there's not a lot going on at work. (is there ever? i have only had one job that required actual work more than 30% of the time. i know this is lucky; i'm just pointing out the consistency in my employment. i often get paid to read.)

pablo picasso wrote poetry. did you know that? i bought his book of poems at a record store. (i'm a musician who buys books at record stores.) it's very bizarre, very abstract, very much like his paintings. i'm not sure if i'll get through the book. i'm trying out lots of books this days, getting through most, but not all, of them. this is the year to become exceptionally well-read, among other things.

tomorrow is valentine's day, and i have never been more apathetic towards a holiday, and it's not in that single-person's-angst kind of way. it's just that i don't think i would even remember about its existence if other people didn't talk about it. (much like groundhog's day - i am never aware of when that shit goes down.)

someday i'll get a job where it's perfectly okay to read and absorb information all day with no repercussions. where that's actually my job. and then i'll just spit it out as songs, as poetry, as whatever.

oh, dreams.


i should, i should.

i am nothing if not perplexed.

i wish i understood.

i, i, i - i am ashamed of my constant egotism.


too much?

twenty years old and i'm tired/you say it's sad, but it's true/two decades behind me, and five to the future/how am i supposed to get through?/(is this all there is?)

probably going to cut that. writing a song for a deadline is hard, anyway, and adding to much dramatic angst isn't going to help my case.

had a bad weekend. would rather not talk about it, but also would love to tell stories. you know that feeling? where something embarrassing but funny but maybe a little sad happened? yeah, one of those.

i'm not even twenty - who am i trying to fool?