being with her changed and challenged so many things that i thought was innate for me for so long.
i had always been crushing my ego; but she sparks this confidence in me. had tried to be as emotionless and mercenary with life, until she came along. ultimately, its how hope and ideals creep their way into a cynics microcosma.
Is that good or bad?
But then again, the real question should is which point of view we wanna judge these changes.
but i'll keep it simple for myself. i might have some new ideas popping around, but hey. i'm still michael, and i'm still that goddamned cynical dumbfuck i was. maybe tempered with mouth-wash, too much chocolates and a little faith, but still here. so it doesn't make a difference if its good or bad, simply because the line between good or bad is no longer thin, its non-existent.
so she's right. i walk, talk, eat, drink, drunk, puke, write, listen, sing and repeat cynicism. Can things change? all things can change. life can always pull a proverbial rabbit out of your hat. but nothing so deep-seated changes in the short span of a month. especially when the coupla months before that only supported cynicism as a defense mechanism.
but one thing, at least, had never changed so far. and at this point, i hope that one thing mattered, and that it meant something.
Well I don't know if I'm wrong
'Cause she's only just gone
Here's to another relationship
Bombed by my excellent breed of gamete disease
I'm sure when I'm older I'll know what that means
Cried when she should and she laughed when she could
Here's to the man with his face in the mud
And an overcast play just taken away
From the lover's in love at the centre of stage yeah
Loving is fine if you have plenty of time
For walking on stilts at the edge of your mind
Loving is good if your dick's made of wood
And the dick left inside only half understood her
What makes her come and what makes her stay?
What make the animal run, run away yeah
What makes him stall, what makes him stand
And what shakes the elephant now
And what makes a man?
I don't know, I don't know, I don't know
No I don't know you any more
No, no, no, no...
I don't know if I'm wrong
'Cause shes only just gone
Why the fuck is this day taking so long
I was a lover of time and once she was mine
I was a lover indeed, I was covered in weed
Cried when she should and she laughed when she could
Well closer to god is the one who's in love
And I walk away cause I can
Too many options may kill a man
Loving is fine if it's not in your mind
But I've fucked it up now, too many times
Loving is good if it's not understood
Yeah, but I'm the professor
And feel that I should know
What makes her come and what makes her stay?
What make the animal run, run away and
What makes him tick apart from his prick
And the lonelier side of the jealousy stick
I don't know, I don't know, I don't know
No I don't know, I don't know, I don't know
No I don't know, I don't know, I don't know
Hell I don't know you any moreNo, no, no no...
Well I don't know if I'm wrong
'Cause she's only just gone
Here's to another relationship
Bombed by my excellent breed of gamete disease
I finished it off with some French wine and cheese
La fille danseQuand elle joue avec moi
Et je pense que je l'aime des fois
Le silence, n'ose pas dis-donc
Quand on est ensemble
Mettre les mots
Sur la petite dodo
- the professor & la fille danse
damien rice.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
'hush hush'
secrets.
what do you do, what do you do?
its weird. for so long i've been able to handle secrets. probably because i hardly have any myself in the first place; i always have friends around i trust. and while i may have 'verbal constipation' of sorts, like heather puts it, i do sort them out. with close ones, or mostly by myself. everyone, i suppose, is allowed a coupla skeletons in their closets, and i would have mine, of course.
some have bigger closets. and some have darker skeletons.
and i perhaps have that privilege, that my friends do trust their selective old bones with me from time to time. i have very few things i can be proud of, but one of them at least, is that people do trust me. maybe its the face; or maybe its the fact that i hardly get surprised at much anymore. though, i hope its actually because i manage to help them out with it or sort through it as objectively as possible.
but i digress. as much as i have been able to be objective and blunt, i find myself losing that touch recently. with all the stuff happening, i have gotten myself emotionally attached to my problems. and while i recognise the mind to be more wise than the heart, lately my heart has been rather deafening.
how ironic.
and i'm finding skeletons hiding in all the wrong places. and these secrets i learn, i sometimes wonder if its better that i left them in the closet, or do a forensic on them and bury them asap. but knowing me, i'd much rather know everything and face them upfront, instead of having them lie six feet under and come right up at the worst possible murphy moment.
ok one dilemma down, another conundrum in the line. now i know these things, and like the proverbial truth that hurts, it sucks to know them. so the heart screams, and the mind tries to find ways to shut it up. So- what do u do? Get myself in the calm and objective state of mind, talk it out and sort it through; or let it slide, and trust the other to be able to face it squarely and honestly, sort it through, and be wise enough not to let it happen again?
But i realise both are not options at all. Their simple idealistic logics are reason enough.
So what do you do?
what do you do, what do you do?
its weird. for so long i've been able to handle secrets. probably because i hardly have any myself in the first place; i always have friends around i trust. and while i may have 'verbal constipation' of sorts, like heather puts it, i do sort them out. with close ones, or mostly by myself. everyone, i suppose, is allowed a coupla skeletons in their closets, and i would have mine, of course.
some have bigger closets. and some have darker skeletons.
and i perhaps have that privilege, that my friends do trust their selective old bones with me from time to time. i have very few things i can be proud of, but one of them at least, is that people do trust me. maybe its the face; or maybe its the fact that i hardly get surprised at much anymore. though, i hope its actually because i manage to help them out with it or sort through it as objectively as possible.
but i digress. as much as i have been able to be objective and blunt, i find myself losing that touch recently. with all the stuff happening, i have gotten myself emotionally attached to my problems. and while i recognise the mind to be more wise than the heart, lately my heart has been rather deafening.
how ironic.
and i'm finding skeletons hiding in all the wrong places. and these secrets i learn, i sometimes wonder if its better that i left them in the closet, or do a forensic on them and bury them asap. but knowing me, i'd much rather know everything and face them upfront, instead of having them lie six feet under and come right up at the worst possible murphy moment.
ok one dilemma down, another conundrum in the line. now i know these things, and like the proverbial truth that hurts, it sucks to know them. so the heart screams, and the mind tries to find ways to shut it up. So- what do u do? Get myself in the calm and objective state of mind, talk it out and sort it through; or let it slide, and trust the other to be able to face it squarely and honestly, sort it through, and be wise enough not to let it happen again?
But i realise both are not options at all. Their simple idealistic logics are reason enough.
So what do you do?
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