andrew ([info]capsandscarfs) wrote,
@ 2005-01-30 21:43:00
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Current mood: calm
Current music:the beatles - baby you can drive my car

i went to boston this weekend and understood my friend a whole lot better.
ignorance is bliss as an emotional defense tool.
i feel lucky.

on another note...

this should be a good week.
steve finished up his guitars for the most part!
i need to buy decemberists tickets.
and maybe pedro/low too.

i want to go to the blue angel this week.
probably on thursday.

read me a poem.


(11 comments) - (Post a new comment)


[info]dreamover
2005-01-30 08:00 pm UTC (link)
ill go with you thursday

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[info]capsandscarfs
2005-02-02 03:38 pm UTC (link)
radical. i will call you.

(Reply to this) (Parent)

[info]___kristin
2005-01-30 08:42 pm UTC (link)
take this paper
pin it to your shirt
where your heart beats
and my words will pound away
do you feel them?


its just one of my short, lame ones.

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[info]capsandscarfs
2005-02-02 03:38 pm UTC (link)
i dig it.

(Reply to this) (Parent)

[info]imramadan
2005-01-30 11:39 pm UTC (link)
dont do it
the drugs, i mean.
its just that i dont trust you honey.
love,
mom

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[info]capsandscarfs
2005-02-02 03:38 pm UTC (link)
great poem, one of my favs.

(Reply to this) (Parent)

[info]forivadell
2005-01-31 02:55 pm UTC (link)
i called your house, and your brother sounded five years older, and it made me want to cry. he told me you werent home, and i said what? where is he? just like old times.

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[info]capsandscarfs
2005-02-02 03:39 pm UTC (link)
i am always gone.

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[info]forivadell
2005-02-03 07:45 am UTC (link)
i will find you. someday.

(Reply to this) (Parent)

[info]forivadell
2005-02-06 09:52 am UTC (link)
i miss you so. call me when you can. i never sleep.

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[info]broken__star
2005-02-10 05:25 pm UTC (link)
40,000 flies

torn by a temporary wind
we come together again

check walls and ceilings for cracks and
the eternal spiders

wonder if there will be one more
woman

now
40,000 flies running the arms fo my
soul
singing
I met a million dollar baby in a
5 and 10 cent
store

arms of my soul?
flies?
singing?

what kind of shit is
this?

it's so easy to be a poet
and so hard to be
a man.


*i would post one of my own, but I've read some of yours and just can't compete.

~vanessa

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