Tribute:

but we were kinda scene kids....and we all knew it. and could make fun of each other for it. family guy style.

so chapin told me about weekend trip to dc to see this band, then handed me an earphone and proceeded to play airguitar while i cackled joyfully for about two minutes. man, i cant believe how many NICE kids i met this weekend.

who the fuck cares if they have or dont have money? they were nice to me and didnt make fun of me acting like a goof when i danced. are we still, even as youthful, educated people, stuck with class bullshit? oh marx, im patting you on the head right now and saying it will be alright eventually.

then suspersweet cycling cap'n travis jaunts over and im so glad we're going to be pals. i knew he was awesome from his awkward and careful use of verbiage around me--most kids who are like that have been put down for what they think, something that shouldnt ever be beaten out of people. and what they think is usually right on and funny as hell.

and getting over physical attraction in order to create a great friendship is hard, but not impossible. so skipping philosophy again because i have a stack of books to read and flaked out on doing homework last night. i like being busy, and work well under stress, but when it comes from all aspects of your life at once

it kinda sucks.

and stopped myself. my mom called today and that was nice. talked to little sisters for a bit and it makes me miss the ocean. makes me want to escape. but i wont because i know i havent done anything wrong. and time will make people get over their retardedness but i cant wait around to give them a cookie everytime they demonstrate a bit of understanding.

and im pretty sure all he (try to guess) is doing when gluing thorns to roses is conveying what some friends think of me or muse upon when they are reading this or that or listening to that or this. but were they there when.....?
and were they able to read his silences like eloquent matricies of meaning?

i dont think so.. maybe theres a lovely handful of his friends that know what he needs, but when they tell him so a tugging of tense control over his tidalwave of emotions and intellect threaten to want to relax. give in.
and we all know what happens when you relax.
you become open and vulnerable.

when the world stitches so many opinions about you violently to your face and genitals and exposed skin, its natural for them to become a part of your individual tapestry. and loose where you once began and where they plugged their hoses in. and shrug tired shoulders and say, "oh well. this is me"

my fingers slipped behind those curtains.
i know what lies underneath and its not a bad thing at all.
because i am strong enough to ignore what others say
because ive been where you were and are in my own way.

and this self assuredness can be taken as pompous. i dont care. i have all the gentle hands and ears i need from women and men who arent afraid of me.
my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard,
but im only waiting for one. he knows. hope is an empty swing beside me.