as an angel hits the ground

stay (faraway, so close) ~ u2

"red lights, gray morning,
you stumble out of a hole in the ground;
a vampire or a victim
it depends on who’s around.

you used to stay in to watch the adverts,
you could lip sync with the talk show hosts.
and if you look, you look through me.
and if you talk, it’s not to me,
and when i touch you, you don’t feel a thing.

if i could stay, then the night would give you up.
stay, and the day would keep it’s trust."

i've been told that this song reminds someone of me so many times that it is actually starting to leave scars. honestly, this is not a flattering song. and yes, i am not stupid, i see the parallels and the reasons. i just...i'm tired of the way i am seen sometimes. as many truths that this song could claim of me, there are volumes more that are unseen.

leaves me to ask: am i that impossible to know? and if this is all you see...

and yet, i do love the song. ironic, and quite fucked, innit?

if you close the door, you'll never have to see the day again

1* this space has changed a bit in recent days. the volume of content reduced, and the creativity along with it. this is due solely to a work of fiction that i am writing, or as i like to say, is taking me over. the past themes may return eventually, but for now this is where mostly music that is moving me will reside. i need to be lost in my writing for awhile, nothing personal.

2* the five songs that my itunes tells me i've been playing most often (incessantly) lately:

norwegian wood (this bird has flown) ~ the beatles
tonight the streets are ours ~ richard hawley
say yes ~ elliott smith
panic attack ~ dirty pretty things
breck road lover ~ the libertines

3* something that has been nagging at me recently, especially the last few days. when a decision is made to stop talking to someone, to just not respond, or to talk to them but put up obvious signs that you are upset and/or unhappy with the person, why do that? why not just come out and say "hey, you did something that is bothering me", or "i'm not sure i can talk to you right now", or even a "it isn't you, it's me" (yeah, i know, i hate that one, too). but honestly, it is the kinder thing to do. and, in the end, it will help all parties involved understand.

i would rather have someone tell me to fuck off then be ignored, or treated strangely, any fucking day.

4* oh my stars, how i love a keen cover song - after hours (the velvet underground cover) ~ rilo kiley

5* ask me something, anything really, and i will weave it into a post (music-included).

of all the drinks i get drunk off music

music is my hot sex: a friday mix

music is my hot, hot sex ~ css
walcott ~ vampire weekend
redondo beach ~ patti smith
sedative ~ babyshambles
my type of criminal ~ elk city
blue skies ~ albert hammond, jr.
hit the switch ~ bright eyes
mountain song ~ jane's addiction
of angels and angles ~ the decemberists
here comes your man ~ pixies
the warning ~ hot chip
hell = other people ~ bettie serveert
must be the moon ~ !!! (chk chk chk)
lola ~ the kinks
be-bop-a-lula ~ gene vincent
high & dry ~ radiohead
something/blue jay way (love mix) ~ the beatles
samson ~ regina spektor

hot music sex zipped

the silver way

finding ~ rupert brooke

from the candles and dumb shadows,

and the house where love had died,

i stole to the vast moonlight

and the whispering life outside.

but i found no lips of comfort,

no home in the moon's light

(i, little and lone and frightened

in the unfriendly night),

and no meaning in the voices....

far over the lands and through

the dark, beyond the ocean,

i willed to think of you!

for I knew, had you been with me

i'd have known the words of night,

found peace of heart, gone gladly

in comfort of that light.

oh! the wind with soft beguiling

would have stolen my thought away;

and the night, subtly smiling,

came by the silver way;

and the moon came down and danced to me,

and her robe was white and flying;

and trees bent their heads to me

mysteriously crying;

and dead voices wept around me;

and dead soft fingers thrilled;

and the little gods whispered....

but ever

desperately i willed;

till all grew soft and far

and silent...

and suddenly

i found you white and radiant,

sleeping quietly,

far out through the tides of darkness.

and i there in that great light

was alone

no more, nor fearful;

for there, in the homely night,

was no thought else that mattered,

and nothing else was true,

but the white fire of moonlight,

and a white dream of you.

love is not a victory march

i heard this song in the car this morning, driving into the morning sun, and sipping from my still too hot coffee. and the tears started. leave it to leonard cohen's words to always bring me to tears. it just happens, and i usually can't pinpoint the reason, or the actual memory the song loosens, and pushes out of me. i just wind up in tears. it happens, it just happens, everytime, with this song. it is usually these lines that do me in:

"love is not a victory march

it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.
hallelujah, hallelujah

hallelujah, hallelujah

there was a time you let me know

what's real and going on below

but now you never show it to me, do you?

i remember when i moved in you,

the holy dark was moving too

and every breath we drew was hallelujah"

hallelujah ~ rufus wainwright

three steps to heaven

coffee and a found journal, interesting to look backwards in this sort of way. a glimpse into a not so long ago past, yet so much has changed.

i'm putting together a mix for tania. the story she's writing has me digging out music that i haven't heard since i used to take road trips with my grandparents. eddie cochran was a favorite of my grandfather's. every so often we'd find a diner that had those tabletop jukeboxes, this was one of the songs he always chose.

excerpt from the journal i found...

but my body still has that strange tense caffeine hangover that i haven't experienced since those nights melissa and i would stay up too late. cup after cup of coffee. mochas sometimes. she would always switch to decaf after 10pm. i'd always think "what's the point of coffee without?. so insomnia would mix with the caffeine and i would stay up most of the night writing. or pretending to sleep and writing. in my head. thus was last night. trying to talk my body into sleeping. and writing in my head. wish i'd written it down. i had this poem forming. felt this rhythm blending in. and then i finally faded into hazy dreams. woke up to law and order on the television. always sucks me in. when it was finished the poem was gone. ah well. it was out there somewhere. in some kind of sleep limbo. in reality purgatory. it is dancing with to-do lists forgotten and love letters that never saw pen and paper. i hope it has a better day than i.

three steps to heaven ~ eddie cochran

via youtube

starry nights and silvery dreams

as is the sea marvelous e.e. cummings

as is the sea marvelous

from god’s

hands which sent her forth

to sleep upon the world

and the earth withers

the moon crumbles

one by one

stars flutter into dust

but the sea

does not change

and she goes forth out of hands and

she returns into hands

and is with sleep…

love,

the breaking

of your soul upon

my lips