76.

How does one hold in all emotions without them bursting out, as if your body just spontaneously combusted, covering all around with things they don’t want weighing them down. My heart would land on you. That would be the heaviest part to hold. How ridiculous it is once we face up to our inner fears we turn and run from them as fast we can. It seems these days all everyone does is ignore themselves and spend the days finding ways to stay out of our own minds but try to stay in others minds. I don’t mind your mind, do you mind my mind?

I’ll bet good money
I’ll bet some beautiful money
That we could agree
With anybody here to disagree
That we could get up from the table
And nobody would know
You could leave your mouth talking
And follow me out the window
I’ve idled here as long as I can
I’ve taken my entertainment like a man
I’m all ribbons, scissors, flowers
And shaking hands
I’m a name and a black book
Attached to a face
At the back of your memory’s
Window display
It’s on the tip of your tongue,
I’m sure But I must away
Must be good to know people
Who know so many people
Must be good to be somebody,
Good to be somebody
They know
And the fastest of friends, the fastest of friends
I’m sure, we’ll all be
The fastest of friends, the fastest of friends
I’m sure we’ll remain
Die here in our deck chairs
Surrounded by beautiful shoes
Or hide out with me
Down at the bottom of the swimming pool
Climb the tower to the bell curve
That cuts and cuts so clean
Or shoot out sharpened arrows at
Their family trees
Cause I know no quicker way, dear
To the shiny gates of hell
Than a room full of handsome devils
Comparing everything to everything else
They just keep coming on
Like a driverless train
I can think of nothing adorable to say
It’s half past the hour,
Looks like rain
Do you like me?
Can I go now?
At the end of the yellow brick drive
Nobody waits for us
On our backs on the roof of the car
Watch the switchboard lighting up
And the fastest of friends, the fastest of friends
I’m sure we’ll all be
The fastest of friends, the fastest of friends
I’m sure we’ll remain
And don’t worry, baby
They won’t let the ship go down without us
And don’t worry baby
They won’t let the ship go down without us

milk+apples

67.

currently reading: and the ass saw the angel – Nick Cave
                                      deathbeds – wes eisold (3rd time in 2 days)
                                      psychology 2 – various people, textbook
                                      looking for the magic – max g. morton
listening: intimacy – bloc party
                    a night in the city – bloc party
                    heavier than heaven lonlier than god – blacklisted
                    alas i cannot swim – laura marling
                    a woman a man walked by – pj harvey & john parish
                    the things we carry – have heart
                    too many more to list…..
needing: escape

milk and apples

66.

How ironic i post this here…. quite enjoyable though.

Sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly distraught, I fantasize about quitting my job and organizing a group of individuals who will assist me in destroying all social-networking entities. And I’m not talking about 4chan-like pranks or some other nerd hacking shit. I want to physically and simultaneously storm the offices and data centers of Twitter, Facebook, MySpace, and whatever other online garbage people like to waste their lives on and bolt the doors shut before igniting chemical fires around their buildings’ perimeters. It will be tough, but through rigorous coordination and preparation my comrades will be certain to torch every last backup and redundancy so all user data will be lost forever. I admit that I am really into schadenfreude, especially when it involves stupid people, but that’s not the only reason for my destructive daydreaming. I posit that networking sites only exist for two purposes: blatant self-promotion (which makes sense for those who are already famous and is completely understandable, no matter how nauseating it may be) and ego-stroking. When I overhear people’s conversations about their recent Facebook et. al, activities it makes me want to punch myself in the neck because there’s nothing I can do or say about it that will make sense to them (except destroying the source of the problem). Ever since Friendster in the early 00s I’ve watched many friends succumb to the evil world of thinking the outside world cares about them. If you frequent any of these types of sites, ask yourself how many hours a day you waste on them and then think about all the productive stuff you could be doing during that time. A common excuse given for spending hours a day on these things is that they make it easy to keep up with and contact a person’s so-called friends (most people only have a maximum three to four real, enjoyable friends at any given time and the rest are bags of flesh to call out of boredom) in one convenient array and makes planning Friday “gal pal” nights easier, but that’s just flawed logic. The modern cell phone is a much more convenient and quicker short-term planning tool and it doesn’t provide the type of protection against real rejection that social-networking offers. It’s much easier to not respond to someone’s message than to tell someone “I don’t really like you,” in your own voice. And that right there is the main problem: Social networking is turning people into gutless liars who are afraid of having their feewings huwt . Grow up you fucking babies. You need to learn how to deal with people who don’t like you in person because there are a lot of them. Those who use these sites do so because they want to pretend that what they say and who they are matters. This desire to be more than just another piece of walking meat with a name isn’t a new one, however, pretending to be able to do something about it is. No one really cares about your new sunglasses or why your house smells like fish or what flavor Pop-Tart you ate for breakfast, even if they engage you about such things. They only pretend to care because it’s a distraction from their job or professor or depression. In the olden times you just accepted the fact that no one cared and got back to plowing the cornfield and scooping up cow dung. Social networking has offered people the promise that anyone can be a celebrity, but because most people are either ugly, boring, and borderline retarded (usually all three), this is simply an impossibility. Anyway, back to my fantasy: I can just picture everyone on the East Coast waking up before work (the plan would be to attack the offices of these sites in the wee hours of the morning). They’ll make some coffee, turn on the TV, and sit down at the computer for their morning personal-message fix. “Oh no!” they’ll scream. “Why doesn’t my account exist anymore?” BECAUSE IT’S GONE. FOREVER! Meanwhile, I’ll be skipping throughout the streets all day long, pointing to people who are obviously frowning because their digital selves were murdered and laughing in their faces while saying stuff like, “Hey, loser, are you really depressed because you can’t talk to your fake friends on the internet anymore? READ A BOOK, ASSHOLE!” I’d find one of those 17-year-old girls who posts photos of herself with that eating-vagina finger pose, cackle like a witch, and shout: “HOW DOES IT FEEL TO HAVE TO THINK ABOUT HOW FUCKING RETARDED YOU ARE ALL DAY INSTEAD OF TRYING TO FIGHT THE INEVITABLE ON THE INTERNET? I HOPE YOU GET HERPES AND GONORRHEA AND ANAL WARTS ALL AT THE SAME TIME AND DIE!” Doesn’t that sound lovely? EGGERT MALSTEIN

Milk and Apples

.59

And lately, well I’ve been feeling down. It’s like there’s no more room for a hopeful sound. I need to believe in something new. To believe in me like I believe in you. We’ve had our hands held much
too tight. We’ve been more wrong than we’ve ever been right. Can’t place our hopes on a hanging chad. We need much more than just one punk rock band. Clenched fists and blackened eyes. Break wide open our heads and fix our broken minds. We’re crossing fingers and we hope for the best. We’ve lost our anger. We’ve been suppressed. And we can’t just hold our breath. Sit back and sing along. Pretend that it’s all okay when we know we’re wrong. And this is not a call to arms. Just a hope that we might try. To use our heads and open eyes. We have more sense than lies. We have more sense than lies. And nothing changes if we don’t change ourselves. Bombs burst my trust away. Red glares and empty stares. We need something to say. We need to start to care. And we can’t just hold our breath. Sit back and sing along. Pretend that it’s all okay. When we know we’re wrong. We must change. Ourselves

 

But enough about me already. Who needs one more love song to get them through the night? Who needs a sucker, a rich motherfucker to croon into the mic about a redhead girl with a conman’s charm? Who needs a broken heart? Who needs another Sergeant Pepper? Another tearful tune about how good she blows? Her perfume on your clothes? How it was too good to be true? Who needs desperate guys with creative minds who turn dark cloud girls into something silver-lined? Who needs string sections? Sweeping three part harmonies? Who needs a slow dance? Love at first glance? Who needs woe is me? When there’s dead mothers and friends that slit their wrist. Who needs kids like me?
Broken hearts beat just fine. Broken hearts beat just fine. And even my broken heart will be just fine. Broken hearts beat just fine

 

milk and apples

.48

Conversations of late, in a rushed manner of outpourings….

Person 1: “I think trust is always hard when you’ve been hurt before, not to mention in these times it seems like everything is of such a false nature that when we have something real we don’t want to believe it in case we look a fool. Silly us. Society has moved forward in openness to sexual things etc yet backwards in the way of emotions. Well i guess i would need to explain my theory but it would just go wahh wahhhh trust and it is all a theory. Along the lines of people used to have one true love, get married, stay married. These days it seems love is as interchangeable as seasons.”

Person 2: “I think your exactly right in saying that it’s the way society is.. the pendulum has swung the complete opposite way like you said with the once traditional method of courting someone, falling in love, forever and ever and believing you had found your other half and yet not being open or talkative about sex to sex running rampant on our tv’s in our magazines in our “children’s” shows and yet we cannot emotionally commit to people, we cant believe in happy ending. We watch them time and again via hollywood and yet somehow it’s made it cheap, unreal, unreachable… old hollywood had romance, new romance is just pure sex..”

milk and apples

.44

Wow is all i have been able to say for the past 2 minutes and it has prompted an attempt at spilling some sort of theory on things. In relation to this revelation. The past and the future, two separate things that are linked. Lies and truth, two polar opposites more often then not these days intertwined like first time lovers.  Do we lie to ourselves and others to make us feel better? I know i have touched on this previously but this time is different. It is as if we know what we are doing is wrong and if mentioned to others they will point this out to us. We do not want to face the facts that we know better. That we have been there and it didn’t work. Why is it we are so willing to throw ourselves one more time into our past? Destined to circle forever in the mistakes that will never go away. The past is the past for a reason yet we never learn. We lie and we lie and we lie and we hope it will be  different, but will it ever change, can one ever erase all the wrongs? Would you spill the truth and hope for the best, in making the past the future do we some how erase the now.  Does the present get put on hold, the people closest don’t know, you don’t even know yourself. What happens to all the moments in between, all the people, all the feelings, do they just become nothing? Were they just things to pass the time, never actually meaning a thing. Why is it we all do this to ourselves, learn from your mistakes, a leopard never changes it’s spots, the past is the past for a reason etc etc all these things are repeated over and over, for what reasoning? You throw away people that told you your right, your better, you can do this, this being in the now and moving to the future. You start hiding everything and lying to them, to yourself, all for one more chance, a chance to relive all the wrongs and to be hurt all over. Will we ever learn. WOW

milk and apples.

.31

The taste of the floor reminds me of the skin
that leaves me in oceans of my soul
without a shore

So alone
so we’ll hold
those barren bodies
bereft of any soul
to get back what
the “middle of the nights” stole:
the forgetting feeling of feeling whole

But the loneliness
of our togetherness
creates an empty nest
for the emptiness
freezing in this chest

So can you make me feel good?
make me feel complete?
help me return to a dream of love
worth more than
dirt and meat

 

fuck today

milk and apples

.29

The secret codes of boys and girls. Has it always been such a riddle the way we all talk to each other? The way friends, lovers, false friends and frenimies all communicate almost needs a dictionary to decipher. Where actions speak louder than words and your words are oposite to your actions what does one think? Everything is a secret, nobody uses names, everything is oh a friend, my friend, just this person i know. When really it is, this other girl that isn’t you, this other boy that isn’t you. The girl i am really sleeping with, the boy that spoons me to sleep. All we say is “a friend”. Has it become common place to lie, to ourselves and to others, lying about who we are, what we think, what we feel. Pushing blame always pushing it away. I think it would be naive to think things are exactly what they seem, especially in a society so based upon appearance. Everyone has a mask, it just depends who decides to take theirs off to you. Are friends really friends? Is everything you hear the truth? Too many questions and not enough answers.

Each of us has the capacity to be at least four people:
the person we think we are,
the person we’d like others to see,
the person others think we are,
and the person we really are.
Appearances can be deceiving, and life is shaeds of grey, not black and white. Truth is not always clear-cut and singular. All of us have stories to be told, and with most, quite a few perspectives are available, yet each would be a true version.

Don’t worry, nothing is everything and everything is nothing.

milk and apples

17.

I am seriously over seeing piece of shit slutty girls everywhere, at shows, on the Internet, walking down the street. I know your meant to not let other people bother you, what they do is their business, you don’t really know them, so on so forth. Come on, people are onto you, when you see the same group of girls with their boobs and sometimes even massive vagina out all over a group of guys or worse still touring band at every show it becomes a bit much. I know who goes home with who, who gets which bands dick, and so does everyone else. Your not fooling any one, if anything the reason you are so “popular” is because people know they can get it from you. They all seem to band together as well, to give each other confidence and reassurance they are doing nothing wrong. I’m not saying it’s doing anything wrong, but it makes me want to vomit. “Hardcore” is seeming an incestuous popularity contest, i want no part of.  I don’t even know what to say or why it’s gotten me all rilled up, but all i can say is your ugly, your slutty, and your completely see through. Hope you choke on the next dick.

milk and apples

15.

Lately I’ve been thinking about this increasingly. I don’t have an out put for it, i need to tell some one anyone, because it is really getting to me. I promised myself this wouldn’t turn into me sooking about anything or my actual life but where is there to turn? It’s so easy to type it out then to say anything, because really they don’t get it and it makes me insecure.

 ”my sweetest friend everyone I know goes away in the end you could have it all my empire of dirt
I will let you down I will make you hurt
If I could start again a million miles away I would keep myself I would find a way “

Not the whole song, but just a few things are in my mind, hitting me hard. Everyone i do or did ever hold close does end up going away. I don’t know if it is me, i doubt it is, who could be so selfish to think it is all themselves. It saddens me that the people i call my best friends i doubt they are. I don’t talk to them often, i don’t see them often, i don’t see anyone. I do not have one confidant, no one to turn to. I wonder if i self impose an exile, or if that’s just life, you grow apart and people move away.

The one girl that ever got me moved to a different state, and i couldn’t be happier then her but fuck i miss her like crazy. Just having her to talk about nothing with or to just get drunk with for no reason but because we know we both need it. It was like she was my other half and now i am just half, i obviously could never tell her this because i feel like a dick.

Then there is the whole new friends old friends making an effort. Why do i bother, it seems these days all people want is drama, they are drama and i feel the drama is nothing but what i went through in highschool. I don’t want it, i don’t need it and i doubt they want it, yet they bring it on. People have a habit of pulling in a bunch of people uninvolved in a situation and turning it on everyone else but themselves. It ruins friendships, it ruins potential friends, and it makes people hurt. God does it make me angry, i feel like it all is piled on me, i’m made out to be this horrible liar, trouble maker, bitch. All because when you hurt me all i can do is try to hurt you back, eye for an eye right.

Fuck i’m hating what i’m saying, i’m hating it all, i’m hating everyone and it’s all because i’m hurting. I have a massive hole torn through my insides, i can’t fix it, there is nothing i can do. I’m starting to hate and distance myself from the ones i say i love too.

I miss everyone, i miss myself.

Milk and Apples