Enjoyable Lyrics from the Daily Playlist:

'I'll move to Paris, shoot some heroin, and fuck with the stars.' - MGMT, "Time to Pretend"

'I can't complain, but sometimes I still do.' - Joe Walsh, "Life's Been Good"

'Do you want to come over and kill some time?  Throw your arms around me.' - Bloc Party, "This Modern Love"

'I want to fuck her on the floor, among my books of ancient lore.' - Iggy Pop, "Nazi Girlfriend"

more to follow...

Notes for a Wedding:

So, my cousin became a husband this weekend.

Being as he and his girlfriend have been dating for seven years and living together for one, the parents stuck by their rule, "you play house, you pay for the wedding."

So, the whole shebang was pretty low-key.  But it suited them excellently.

My cousin and his (now) wife are both very sporty, no-BS, responsible, high-energy people.  And everything had a very youthful energy to it.  From the short, fuscia bridesmaids' dresses to the firehouse reception.

Got me thinking about my wedding...

Which, at the moment, has no date, budget, or groom.

So it's nice to fantasize:

- The wedding party in silver.

- Lots of young ones...  (I don't care if they make noise, weddings always felt near-magical to me as a kid.)

- 300 people on the guest list.

- All white flowers.

- A moist cake iced like a present.

I can't even think about the dress.  Or the groom.

Eh, why have a groom?

I just wish I had a good enough reason to spend a wad of cash on a party.

Ode to a Childhood Film:

My new lover is handsomely needy.

He has these great round biceps and thick forearms that tell me he's a tin soldier at heart.

And when I put a hand on his shoulder, he melts a little, just in one place.  With his feet at a right angle with the ground, toes pointing just noticeably inward.

He smiles white and stares black.  There's a confidence he doesn't see in himself.  A strength in what he wants.

And here I am in tulle, balancing on toes I've forgotten to feel.

But I'll lend a corner blush and happy lashes to make sure he knows I wish I could hold his hand.

A Confession from Last Night:

Last night,

I was driving four of my girls to a friend's house.

Friend 1 says, "Turn the radio to 99.5!"

I oblige.

Guess what plays?

"ROMEO SAVE ME, I'VE BEEN FEELIN' SO ALONE..."!

And yes, I blasted it as loud as possible and sang at the top of my lungs.

My passengers were unamused.

I was perfectly content.

But I still heartily curse you, Taylor Swift.  

Le grr.

It doesn't take much...

So.  I've had a minor life experience.  From that experience was built the soapbox from which I will preach to you a bit o' advice.

Ready?  It's nothing big.

Okay:

You enjoy someone.  Maybe you met him in class.  You met her at a basketball game.  Hell, you met him in a public bathroom, I don't know.

But, nonetheless, the two of you spent some time together (an hour, a year) you enjoy(ed) him/her for reasons unknown.  

HOMEWORK:

Send her a text message, just saying what's up.

Send him an email seeing how he's doing.

Oo, major points for SNAIL MAIL. 

It opens the door for many things.

And get the conversation going, y'know?  These days, we have so many opportunities to communicate (facebook, email, texting, phonecalls) that it seems we don't feel the need to truly communicate, to truly put an effort behind our relationships.

Stop being afraid of seeming "weird."  Be confident in your friendships, in your love.  It keeps others at ease.

And maybe you'll enjoy yourself.  Y'never know.

Sweet.

Damn You, Taylor Swift, Damn You.

I am currently planning to murder myself, with any common household weapon.  I'm deciding between falling on a fire poker and knocking myself out with a hammer:

"Love Story" has been stuck in my head for two days.

You know, the one where sweet Taylor Swift sings this modern Romeo and Juliet script.  And it ends with them not dying, but getting married with Dad's consent.

The music video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=15KwQs4gnUc) starts off with her walking on a college campus, making eyes at Mr. Gorgeous, studiously reading by a tree.  

And in a sudden dissolve, we're looking up at Taylor Swift a la 1800s, with Mr. Gorgeous all in ruffles.  Cue the passionate, personal singing into the soft focus camera.  And the slow ballroom dancing.  And the subtle innuendos with Taylor Swift plucking cherries that aren't quite ripe (uh-huh)...  

And after the two unite in a wheat field, decide to get married, we're back on campus.  And we're still staring at Mr. Gorgeous (who really looks much better in a coat, collar, and tails...).  He stands up, walks over to innocent Taylor, and they all but kiss in the middle of the quad.

I can't say I don't like it.  

Actually, I get a sweeping emotional feeling in my chest when she sings, "He pulled out a ring and said, 'Marry me, Juliet...'" 

There's my anti-feminist, pro-romance, media-saturated girly-ness talking. 

I thought the pop-loving teeny-bopper in me had died with the Spice Girls.

I guess it's a little different because Taylor Swift is pseudo-country.  ...oh God.

Murder me.  Please.

"Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone.  I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run.  You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess."  <-- Even my inner feminist can't deny, I want this whole thing to happen.  Sigh.

Oh, and I'd like to point out, I def put the "Julie" in "Juliet."  Shazam!

What is this?

So, I don't really know how this is going to go, but I figured I'd let you know I do a lot of "nothings."  I write down random thoughts that I feel sound like something worth hearing again.  So, there's gonna be a few of those in here.  It'll be kinda like this:

I shit hourglasses and piss time bombs.  My eyes are made of moments and my hands once belonged to grandfather clocks.

Cool?  Cool.

And I'll probably throw in a few thinly veiled diary-style shenanigans just because I'm so crazy about myself.  Like, ah: 

Reconnected with Burning Crush #5,697 today.  Still yummy, but more arrogant.  Like a wax fruit that rots.  And to Mullet-Woman of Richmond:  Please start to put things in perspective.  Thanks.

And then there'll be big, thought-provoking shtuff-mms, brainchildren of daily experiences.  Exempli gratia:

I've been playing around with grammar recently.  I don't understand why certain letters get the benefit of capitalization, while others are left to wallow in their shadows.  I find sentences can be more attractive all lower-case.  You pay attention to what's important, not what's first.    

So, we'll see how it goes...

Continue to rock, please.