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Topics - PIBby

Pages: 1 [2] 3 4 ... 17
16
Creative Endeavors / Close Enough to the Twelfth
« on: November 05, 2004, 12:05:39 pm »
Won't you take me back?
It was just something to do for a few months before October,
But I'm still hanging onto you.
It's been a long time since I've inhaled Friday without you.
I want to spend time with my Scorpio.
Cold October days, I can't make them alone.
I don't mean to be so repetitive but: I will never hit you again.
I won't hurt you.
See it's these cold October days that I can't live through without you.
I've had the worst thoughts: "'Smoke Scorpio', no one will remember."
Next weekend, I'm spending time with my Scorpio.
And when you sleep, I freeze in one position,
And stare at you for hours . . .
But now, I'm just so scared that,
There's some significance in the vacancy of my bedside.
So I invited you over for a few more days by yourself.
Won't you take me back?
Et oui, elle est d'accord. But I also should have known,
When she says she'd vote for Bush and she swears she was Confirmed.
But . . . she knows and we know every lonely November,
When I can't run with my eyes open that Someone's getting older.
And Someone left me alone, but she knows.
And she knows Pete's number, so I shouldn't waste time trying.

17
Creative Endeavors / Because Petula Clark Knows
« on: October 02, 2004, 03:25:35 pm »
*You guys, I'm sure, have heard Clark's 'Downtown', but I doubt you know the lyrics, anyway. It would help, understanding this, if you did. Anyway.

So why are we going to the movies,
When the screen is blank?
And your brown, blonde hair stays hidden and tied,
With the eyes that pushed me over.
If she says more to you, just call me.
And I know Aly knows it's the worst idea,
But we hate it when you cry.
So now my guitar's stuck in my locker,
Along with a thousand notes that I wrote for you,
Stuck at the bottom so you'll never see them.
If your Mom still thinks I'm smoking behind the restroom,
Contradict that because we know I didn't come.
So I'm away from that building.
Downtown has never seemed so isolated before now.
"And why should we go to the movies, if nothing's ever playing,"
Because I wanted to see you.
Saturday I lost you. But Friday, I'm still hanging onto Fall,
With too many people that we won't know and three shots of Everclear.
I'm falling deeper, losing myself in missing purses,
And wallet-sizes I never meant for anyone to see.
"But that's so strange," because I never lost them.
I lost my view of you in glasses and contacts. You know I'm still in awe.
Run off this track, there's woods back there. No one would ever see us.
Through this track of darkness and black, I somehow found a way to the movies.
Just to see you . . . But you were still stuck on Eastern Parkway.
With a crashed Focus, because the light was red.
Your light's red, I don't want to end up with you on Tuesdays,
Because Saturday seems to me, the only night you stay yourself.
And downtown may still be central, but all it is isolated to me.
I'll see you downtown, and I won't let problems surround you,
Because there are always movie shows downtown.
So try another time.

Also, this is about 1) going to school downtown 2) football games and football fields with running tracks surrounding them 3) field hockey 4) glasses and certain people 5) car crashes. Random, but it makes sense if you know what I'm talking about. Please, don't think I'm on crack.

18
Creative Endeavors / "Throw them, see if I can catch one," was said
« on: August 30, 2004, 03:08:17 pm »
This is my response to Konstantine. It's certainly not as well written as that greatness, but this is about twelve minutes with the piano, so. (I've already posted the first part, but . . . yeah.)

This is when I find out that a spark can light this house on fire.
And the shaprest hint of the scent of your hair can bring me down.
At one thirty, when I realize you're not with me,
Well does it hurt you? That I don't call you?
This is to say that all I want to do,
Is write another song for you, and play the guitar,
But first I've got to find out where you are.
So your cologne can put this fire out,
And stop this place from burning down,
Into ashes of what I was and into all I want to be,
With you in New York City, someday.
I know you're farther than I think you are,
And Spring left me with nothing but kerosene,
(With the hope that this wind will blow me through your long, blonde hair.)
So I wash my face and I clean my veins,
And I hope that something will stop me,
To erase all the past ten months have put me through.
But I'm still lost in this corner that you sat me in,
For keeping my hands to you.
But it's cool, and my bed is warm, and I can't let go.
Let go of all these feelings I've had, while thinking of you,
But you ask me to. And you beg me to.
It may not be that obvious, but I know you're begging me to do it,
One more time.
I don't want to say goodbye, that word has passed through me so many times,
Since January, but I'm just now catching on.
And when you're alone in the dark,
May I ask permission to call you, to keep you company?
Because I've also been lonely.
Merlot, Shiraz, Cabernet Sauvignon - I've got so many I've never got to share with you.
So I apologize for assuming you felt even the smallest bit of enclosed feelings.
I've just noted that you don't care.
Three months had affected me so traumatically,
That I don't know if I remember the fourth and anything after.
I don't want to say goodbye, because the last time I said it,
I was with you and I felt at home (that's fine).
Well, that feeling of welcome within you is lost to me.
It's brought me down and I'm numb to it anymore.

And I want to go, every day, to a place near the water,
Where it always feels like Fall.
It's cold. I asked, "Can you love?"
And the sun's out just enough, so we know it's still there.
But still - why can't you love? Well, can you love?
My piano keys smell like smoke,
And I hope that you're happy.
Now, did I ever get your number?
Well, things changed as well as the Spring time.
Everything was fine, until you let me down,
But I can feel you like Fall.
When I think of you, I think of the first time I saw you laugh.
So why don't you laugh anymore?
Aren't you happy to see me?
I'm sorry I wasn't too much to handle, like before.
Your smile is brilliant, so brilliant.
I apologize for not wanting to dance - I'm not too experienced.
We can say you're not who I think of when I'm at-bat.
Or that I'm smoking in the restroom again,
Because you're not here to save me when some game's two hours end.
When I'm out too late, and I get bored,
I want you to know it's not by you.
It's only caused by things I wish you'd say or do.
But now, it's Fall. Your laugh's not enough to remind me of you,
And late night calls.
"Now is now," how could we forget that?
Disconnected phone numbers we thought were sincere,
Were never as close as the laugh that I hear,
When I say goodnight. But my phone's not rung.
And I just wanted to call you.
If I had known you loved the piano, I would have played it for you.
"Kentucky girls are heartbreakers," Trevor, now I understand.
Falling down these flights of stairs, we lost your number.
It's not as easy as "867.something.something."
So, this is what you get as the 80s song I was to write for you.
Your photic smile gets me every time that I stare down the sun.
In some dark, wanted corner, I see your eyes; and we know,
They're green. Or have they always been brown,
Like the sand we built this house on?
I apologize for not wanting to dance one more time with you.
"You've got the greatest name . . ." soft and brilliant, is it?
Is it as brilliant as you? You're so . . .
And I'm so lonely, missing your laugh.
867 . . . no. 231 . . . no. I guess I've forgotten.

19
Creative Endeavors / Lips to Hand to Cheek
« on: August 24, 2004, 07:39:34 pm »
She's looking over your left shoulder,
To let you know you should have thrown salt over it so long ago.
It's just a silly superstition.
"But bad luck has come, and that's no coincidence," you said.
And I know that you had braces,
Because no one with a smile as bright as that,
Could have had it brought onto him or her so naturally.
I wish that my smile was as perfect as yours.
If you read my mind again tonight,
Well, I'm thinking that you should call me know you're still around;
And so I don't keeping falling for another misinterpreted Irish something,
Tangled up in words we should have said.
At your kitchen table, wrap my arms around you.
Now what would you do? Blow me a kiss.
I've missed that for so long now,
And I never believed in superstitions until I walked inside,
With my umbrella open . . . And then you said goodbye.
But I swear to you that it was raining in the house,
Where you blew me your first kiss.
"What do we do," I ask. "Because if I had it my way,
"Well, it wouldn't be this way."
I'd surprise you with some sort of blown kiss -
Subtract the "blown" and you've got exactly what I mean.
And now, I'm lying here at 12:15 with nothing but my bright green sheets,
But they've never looked as bright as your eyes,
When the sun hit them that way.
I know you want to leave so badly,
And all I want is for you to leave wherever it is you're going,
And to come back to me.
When I miss you, your brother isn't half of what I see that you are.
I wonder why you're crying, when you say goodbye.
But I don't want to, so we don't have to.
Your logic's not what it used to be.
Just call me, when you get the chance.
It took me an hour to forget just how bright your eyes were,
When the sun hit them that way.
And even I "don't mind spending every day,
"Out on your corner in the pouring rain," so long as you sing it to me.
You wrap your arms around me and sing. You used to sing to me.
You know how tense I tend to get when I don't know what to think.
But sing; sing to me, something of October,
When you've got more time to be around.
I'm still waiting outside for the sun to come out.
I'm lying here at 12:15, with nothing but my bright green sheets.
But they never looked as green as your eyes when the sun hit them that way.
I want to spend every day. . .

20
Creative Endeavors / Superbowls Below Eighty
« on: August 20, 2004, 07:12:45 pm »
I move from blonde to brown so easily.
And I say that nothing's going wrong.
But I move from blue to green so easily.
I swam from Ireland to Spain.

But do you see that something's going on, now,
Because it's almost Fall, without you on my . . .
And I miss you from six to three, because it's not Fall.

I move from eyes to smile so easily.
And you say ths never meant a thing.
I move from voice to laugh so easily.
I move from touch to  touched so easily.

Leaves are dying but something growing for you, in my . . .
You know it's only 10:15 right now?
Well, this Fall you know that we're all playing football,
In the rectory yard . . . But only if you come.

I move from books. And I move from hands.
I move from falling perfectly to just tying it all up.
I move to personality. I'm moving to the perect contrast,
Of whose skin on who?
I move to bookstores, short of change.
But you know you've both got me tied up,
And I don't know .
You know I could never choose between blue or those green eyes.

You've got me so tied up . . .

21
Completely Off-Topic / Off to School . . .
« on: August 16, 2004, 03:18:34 am »
When's everyone else's first day?

22
Creative Endeavors / Greece, Without the Blue
« on: August 13, 2004, 07:51:25 pm »
Everything's cold, so we settled in.
I want to say something - Where do I begin?
I can stay and go blind for a second or two,
When you're taking off your shirt and I'm staring at you.
But Trevor says he's tired and he wants to leave.
The walk is much longer than it used to be.
But Catholics get boring, I don't want to wait.
Memories come, and you were falling away.
Pero todos estamos atrapadas en las casas blancas.
No one lets me down as hard as a blonde does.
All Spring is, is a Winter, reborn.
It all made sense, but now I'm not sure.
I'm lost in the eyes of a blue-eyed kid.
And everything was cold, so we settled in.
I'm waiting for Fall, but Summer's still not aged.
Trevor says he's tired, but I want to stay.
But we've also been trapped in white houses.
And no one let me down as hard as a blonde did.

23
Completely Off-Topic / Happy Feast Day of St. Ignatius of Loyola!
« on: July 31, 2004, 07:10:43 pm »
Yay! Party!

24
Creative Endeavors / Pot, a Piano, and Please
« on: July 30, 2004, 03:52:42 pm »
Sometimes, when I'm cold, I pretend that I can hear your voice.
And I walk through that street and I say to myself,
"I know you hear her voice."

Sometimes, I took hits, I'd sleep alone while the wind blew you away.
And everything that I was holding was so far away from me.
So I want to get stoned and play the piano.
This is, I think, as honest as I get.
I want to remember all you said, but I'm alone, sleeping in my bed.

You see, last time we added ones and found nothing but zeros,
I was lying with you (regardless of that outcome).
With a colorless drink and a bathroom sink, I think I'll make it without you.
Then there are times when I think it's Fall,
But all it is is a slope in the temperature.
We've never stolen three months - as far as we know.
I want to get stoned and play a piano song for you.
But I don't want to say that when I'm through with you,
This all is over for a long, long time.

Louisville always changes its moods.
And Summer's been so blurry without you.
The lights are out, and I'm falling down.
I'm falling.

I want to get stoned and play the piano.
Maybe then I'll think of four chords, perfect for you.
But every October horoscope I'll read, I'll keep in mind, the Spring.
And nothing gold ever stays, so why did I depend on you?
Saphire eyes can never stays as well.
But I still want to get stoned and play the piano for you.

25
Creative Endeavors / I was Five Years Old
« on: July 24, 2004, 09:17:27 pm »
Drawing pictures on blank paper,
That's still white even after the crayon kisses it.
I feel like I'm five, but I know I'm not,
Though I really wish I was,
Because I know five-year-olds don't know of this feeling.
If I ever get a choice, I'll buy a firetruck, convertible, or the Bat Mobile.
Maybe I will, when I reach five again.
I had this dream that I was in space,
And all the planets were there,
But your face is what I called home.
And everyone else, I think, was there.
My Grandfather, Mitchell, and the sound of his voice.
When I was five, I never thought that this would happen.
Bruce Wayne can't stop these killers,
And my firetruck won't put this fire out.
So let's just say I'm in New York, or still stuck in Louisville,
With that familiar wind that probably blew me away before.
I'm gonna get a new guitar, and when I do I'll play you this song,
That I wrote down with a broken crayon.
I'm still convinced that I'm in space,
And everything turned dark, and then your face,
Which I never thought would black out with the brilliance of your smile.
I guess it's good to say I haven't felt this way for a while.
Drawing pictures on cluttered paper,
It all is getting blacker the more I draw.
I hope five-year-olds don't feel this way too often.
And we'll ride in the Bat Mobile, but 'til then I'm not five.
Because I'm not five, five year-olds don't know this feeling,
Atleast we hope.

26
Other Musicians / Once More than Never
« on: July 24, 2004, 08:05:43 pm »
Oh my God. I saw these guys tonight. They are SO good.

Download their songs off www.purevolume.com/oncemorethannever especially their song 'Everyone Dies Alone'. It's SO good.

If any band makes it big in Louisville, it's going to be these guys. I guarantee it.

(I almost like them more than Rookie of the Year, Kellitha!)

www.oncemorethannever.com

27
Creative Endeavors / Sadie to Allie, and That's How it's Always Been
« on: July 24, 2004, 12:51:25 pm »
During late Summer, we're just wishing it was Fall.
And all we want is to be seven again.
All Saints' Day is going to feel more like Winter,
Rather than Halloween-time.
This is all we have left,
After a decade of wanting nothing more than to leave,
And all we've got is, I'd guess, this feeling of wanting to stay in her womb.
And we have been so cool about Mass on Tuesday.
Did I mention that we don't want to lose them?
We took "the photographs and still frames in our minds,"
But when I think of them from time to time, I just want to be seven again.
And on Halloween afternoon, I want to walk to the store with you,
Because you forgot to buy your nothingness,
'Cause you're going to be a ghost. Well we're "going to be something," Atleast that's what they told us every day.
And we're "ourselves,"
And that we've "got so much talent for only two dozen kids."
I want to be seven again.
Late-May or early June, when we forget our books (and I'm missing you),
Or at Christmas, this year I won't forget to say goodbye.
All it comes down to in the end,
Is I want to be seven again.

28
Entertainment - Movies / TV / Books / Warped Tour 2004
« on: July 22, 2004, 09:34:49 pm »
Because it's Kentucky, a few of the bands backed out for our night, so it's called Warped Tour, Jr. for us. But my goal was to see Thursday atleast once before school started (my plan was Curiosa, I'll be not even close to Cincy on August 3) but they're going to be playing for Louisville. Because Geoff is hot.

It's eleven hours of nothing but music (granted, some of it is going to be Simple Plan-y, but it's all good because I like Addicted and Perfect) and . . . yeah.

I know that Sugarcult is playing, From Autumn into Ashes, Yellowcard, Socratic, and 4,985,928,409,582,940 local or unsigned bands are playing.

Is anyone going to Warped Tour near you?

PS I didn't know if this should go in Other Musicians or Entertainment, so I decided since it was a tour, not an actual musician, that it was a form of entertainment so I put it in here. But jsut so you guys know.

29
Polls / Best Party to Which You've Ever Been
« on: July 22, 2004, 07:42:35 pm »
Well . . . ?

30
Creative Endeavors / Cecilia.
« on: July 22, 2004, 03:44:38 pm »
I regret to inform you that the foundation of this house is rotting, and the trees and life around it are catching its cold.  This is what happens when we fall out of the sky, onto ground harder than what we had expected. And I’d like nothing in the world more than telling him how I feel. I want nothing in the world but to tell her how I feel. The first symptoms, noticed because of an apathetic excusation, a misconceived glance meant for the other end of the room, and the feeling of falling until . . . Held together only by my relaxed jaw and wide open mouth, it finally passed through me. Understand, that if in ten years I'm not who you expected, I can change that. I lost my touch, and silence is the only thing keeping our conversations in motion. But this is how letting go feels. I’ve not wanted to let go of infatuation, conversations, and eye colours because if I, too, drown in the emptiness - or serenity - of blue, my last memory of you will be my first memory of you. The first symptoms of letting go are noticed because of an apathetic and synthetic apology, a misinterpreted look into an opposite’s eyes, and the feeling of falling until I can contently whisper that I am in love with . . . And my last thought will be of the shade of your eyes.

You can be social, you can be charming, you can be gorgeous, while you're armed and dangerous but I don't have anything you want, so we can't let this be known.

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