Dream Brother

There is a child
Sleeping near his twin
The pictures go wild
In a rush of wind
That dark angel he is shuffling in
Watching over them
With his black feather wings unfurled

The love you lost
With her skin so fair
Is free with the wind
In her butterscotch hair
Her green eyes blew goodbyes
With her head in her hands
And your kiss on the lips of another
Dream Brother,
With your tears
Scattered round the world.

Don't be like the one who made me so old
Don't be like the one
Who left behind his name
'Cause they're waiting for you
Like I waited for mine
And nobody ever came...

I feel afraid
And I call your name
I love your voice
And your dance insane
I hear your words and I know your pain
Your head in your hands
And her kiss on the lips of another
Your eyes to the ground
and the world spinning round forever
Asleep in the sand
With the ocean washing over.

Written and Performed by
JEFF BUCKLEY

Emotional Weather Report

It's been a long time since I hated myself this much.
(Maybe five or six years.)

Physical pain from my belly button up to my temples.

I can't remember happiness. I hate it when people ask me to remember a time when I felt happy. Actually, I can remember some happiness.

I just answered the door to a meter reader and managed to be polite to him. Maybe there is hope. I'm not opposed to hope.

Can I haz stronger medications, plz?

Update: 10:00 My headache isn't so bad now, but I'm still finding it difficult to think coherently. (I am too dependent on my intellect.)

Late night and early morning
low clouds with a chance of fog
chance of showers into the afternoon
with variable high cloudiness
and gusty winds, gusty winds
at times around the corner of
Sunset and Alvorado
things are tough all over
when the thunder storms start
increasing over the southeast
and south central portions
of my apartment, I get upset
and a line of thunderstorms was
developing in the early morning
ahead of a slow moving cold front
cold blooded
with tornado watches
issued shortly before noon Sunday,
for the areas
including, the western region
of my mental health
and the northern portions of my
ability to deal rationally
with my
disconcerted precarious emotional
situation.

it's cold out there
colder than a ticket taker's smile
at the Ivar Theatre, on a Saturday night
flash flood watches covered the
southern portion of my disposition
there was no severe weather well
into the afternoon,
except for a lone gust of wind in the bedroom
in a high pressure zone, covering the eastern
portion of a small suburban community
with a 103 and millibar high pressure zone
and a weak pressure ridge extending from
my eyes down to my cheeks
cause since you left me baby
and put the vice grips on my mental health
well the extended outlook for an
indefinite period of time
until you come back to me baby
is high tonight
low tomorrow,
and precipitation is expected
TOM WAITS

Update: 10:30 Why do the song lyrics that seem to describe my current mood have to be about bad relationships? That's one dimension of my life where I've quite lucky. Unlike my misogynist heroes, evidently.

Spooky Girlfriend

I want a girl to make a mess
To do no wrong she must confess
And then perhaps hitch up her dress
'Cos when the flashbulbs explode
She's such a sensitive soul...

I want a girl who is helpless and frail
Who won't pull on my ponytail
I want a girl who has no past
She's made up now
But that won't last
'Cos when she sits on my knee
And then she whispers to me

"Can't you see
I could be
I could be
Your spooky girlfriend"


The broken toys are all scattered in the attic
Newspapers play with the words of the fanatic
While the greeting cards are your most poetic lyric
And the flat champagne is sweet sugar syrup

I want to paint you with glitter and with dirt
Picture you wit innocence and hurt
The shutter closes
Exposes the shot
she says, "Are you looking up my skirt?"
When you say "No"
She says "Why not?"

I want a girl to turn my screw
To wind my watch, to buckle my shoe
And if she won't her mother will do
Cos when she does as she's told
We'll all turn platinum and gold

But when she sits on my knee
I hear her whispers to me
"Can't you see?
"I could be your spooky girlfriend"

Elvis Costello

It Ain't Over...

Hey! It ain't over!

Gee, I hope that I'm crazy...
I feel you driving and you're only the wheel
Slow down, let someone love you
I've never touched you since I started to feel
If there's nothing to hide me
Then you've never seen me
Hanging naked and wired

Somebody lied
I say it's hip
To be alive

Now your smile is
Spreading thin...
Seems you're trying
Not to lose...
Saints are not supposed to grin
All you've got to do is win.

That's all ya gotta do...
It ain't over

Me, I'm fresh on your pages
Secret thinker sometimes listening aloud
Life lies dumb on its heroes
Wear your wound with honor,
Make someone proud

Someone like you
Should not be allowed
To start any fires

Now your smile is
Spreading thin...
Seems you're trying
Not to lose...
Saints are not supposed to grin
All you've got to do is
win.

That's all ya gotta do...
It ain't over
Seek and believe in you
It ain't over, no
DAVID BOWIE

Sex and the City

"New York, New York, it's a helluva town,
The Bronx is up and the Battery's down "

Been here for four days,and I still don't know where the plain women hang out. Seriously: there's something unusual when the ugliest crowd you see are the people at the Apple store standing in line to buy iPhones.

After work,the bars fill up with groups of well turned out women, and I feel like an extra in Sex and the City. Around my hotel, yellow cabs dispense them in threes and fours, like money from cash machines.

There are gay men around, and gay women - I'm on the edge of Chelsea and Greenwich Village. Where are the groups of straight men? In another part of town, possibly with the plain girls. Here,they're outnumbered five-to-one.

Two blondes talking with a brunette friend about the man the brunette's been seeing. She likes him, but he's married. Still, she can let him buy her dinner, can't she?

I got into a conversation with a lovely girl who recognised my accent, and told me she'd recently had her heart broken by a man from London. No, she said, she doesn't hate men. She doesn't even hate British men. She just hates him. He dumped her a few weeks ago. She has a date tonight. I wish her luck.

At my hotel, one of the receptionists is showing off a book she's had published. It's about her experiences as a self-destructive teenage punk rock fan. Or as the book calls her, a Death Rock Cutter, which sounds like a spaceship in Star Wars. Still,the book looks very arty.

I walk around the corner to Starbucks, and pass a shoe shop called Shoegasm.They don't seem to stock much for men. Another part of town. Another part of town.

"There are eight million stories in the Naked City"

New York Conversation

I was sleeping, gently napping, when I heard the phone
Who is on the other end talking, am I even home
Did you see what she did to him, did you hear what they said
Just a New York conversation, rattling in my head

Oh, my, and what shall we wear?
Oh, my, and who really cares?

Just a New York conversation, gossip all of the time
Did you hear who did what to whom, happens all the time
Who has touched and who has dabbled here in the city of shows
Openings, closings, bad repartee, everybody knows

Oh, how sad, why do we call
Oh, Im glad to hear from you all

I am calling, yes Im calling just to speak to you
For I know this night will kill me, if I cant be with you
If I cant be with you ...
LOU REED

The Dark Knight

This afternoon, I went and saw The Dark Knight on Broadway.
It is an extremely good movie.
Heath Ledger as the Joker? Brilliant.
Heath Ledger in a nurse's uniform? Not really.

Unexpected Conversation of the Weekend

Host: "How are you enjoying the party?"
Gordie: "Great. I was just talking to Derek"

"Ah, you met Derek. He's a good bloke."
"Yeah, and his mum's really nice, too."

"Don't go there."
"Uh?"

"Just don't go there. It doesn't matter how big your dick is, or how thick. If you sleep with Derek's mum, you will wake up in a pool of blood, going Oh. My. God."

"Thanks for the advice..."

Happy When It Rains

In Solitude

This is me, this week. I like it here.

A Rush of Blood to the Head

Okay, so I seem to be going through a women upside-down phase.

The Guardian described Martha Wainwright as "wearingly needy, endlessly self-examining", which gives me a damn good reason not to have anything to do with her, but just look at that picture, would you? All that blood, rushing to her head...

And the album title. "I Know You're Married But I've Got Feelings Too". Martha is dangerous. Martha will utterly screw up your life. She's the Devil, and nothing will change her.

I want to take those heels in my hands, take off her shoes, and begin kissing her feet, while looking up her dress.