OLP- Thief

OUR LADY PEACE - Thief

I don't want to understand this horror
There's a weight in your eyes
I can't admit
Everybody ends up here in bottles
But the name tag's the last thing you wanted

As the world explodes
We fall out of it
And we can't let go
Because this will not go away
There's a house built out in space

I can't see that thief
That lives inside of your head
But I can be some courage at
The side of you bed
I don't know what's happening
And I can't pretend
But I can be your, be your

Someone help us understand
Who ordered this disgusting
Arrangement, time and the end
I don't want to hear who walked
On water, because the hallways are empty
And the clocks tick

As the world implodes
We fall into it
And we can't go home
Because this will not go away
There's a house built out in space

I can't see that thief
That lives inside of your head
But I can be some courage at
The side of you bed
I don't know what's happening
And I can't pretend

It's a long, long get away
It's a long, long get away
Make it home again
Make it home again
It's a long, long get away
It's a long, long get away

I can't see that thief
That lives inside of your head
But I can be some courage at
The side of you bed
I don't know what's happening
And I can't pretend
But I can be your, be your



NOT the official video. fan made =( Youtube didn't have the embedded code for the real video.

Triplets- By Tom Robbins

I went to Satan’s house.
His mailbox was painted black.
A fleet of bone crushers
was parked in his driveway.
The thorns on his rosebushes
were longer than shivs.
And sixty-six roosters scratched
in his front yard, their spurs
smoldering like cheap cigars.

I went to Satan’s house.
It was supposed to be an Amway party.
I wanted a set of those
hard-as-hell steak knives.
The ones that can't tell the difference
between mama's sponge cake
and a block of rock cocaine.

I went to Satan’s house.
I felt a little out of place.
But Satan’s twin daughters soon put me at ease.
They tried on funny hats for me,
showed me jewels,
danced around my chair.
They read my fortune
in a bowl of ashes,
let me pet their Dobermans,
and watch while they rinsed out their pink under things.

I stopped by Satan’s house.
I just happened to be in the neighborhood.
Satan came downstairs in a raider’s jacket.
His aura was like burnt rubber,
but his grin could paint a sunrise
on a coal shed wall.
"I see you've met desire
and fulfillment," he said,
polishing his monocle with
a blood-flecked rag.

"Regret is in the kitchen making coffee."

Shall I Compare Thee To A Summers Day?

Shall I compare thee to a summersday?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a day: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimm'd:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor loose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breath or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

-William Shakespeare

You and I could belong to each other.

Can you read my mind? Do you know what it is that you do to me? I don't know who you are. Just a friend from another star. Here I am like a kid out of school, holding hands with a god, I'm a fool. Will you look at me? Quivering like a little girl, shivering. You can see right through me. Can you read my mind? Can you picture the things that I am thinking of? Wondering why you are all the wonderful things you are. You can fly! You belong in the sky! You and I could belong to each other. If you need a friend, I'm the one to fly to. If you need to be loved, here I am. Read my mind.

-Lois Lane (Superman, 1978)

I so need a social life. I miss my green, bastard web cam. So what if I don't use it? I still miss it. And yet again, I'm going to have to sit here and bitch about how much I hate my privacy being invaded. I hate the stupid job, ever since I started it my mom's been sticking her nose into my life and dragging her drag queen sister in it too. I want to drown myself senseless in Smallville and Tom Welling. I think I'm going to put on my dvd set and watch it until my eyes pop out of my head. Hopefully that will happen so I won't have to go into work. Heh. Maybe I am being selfish and ungrateful, but I really don't care. My sympathy for everyone is dead.

From this job I've learned that

1) Reality is a Whore.

and

2) My family and friends have no faith in me, they question my ability to make something of myself, and see me as having no potential to make it further than sitting behind a phone and a computer to assist old people with paying their bills.

So why is it that I care about what these assholes think? I don't know. I don't know alot of things. I don't know why I even bother to spill my guts to people, I don't know what I'm doing with my life. I don't know why I let people try and con their way into taking control of my life. Just because I don't know what I want that doesn't mean that I want someone else to decide my future for me.

I had it all planned out. I knew what I wanted, I knew how to get it. But then I let her talk me out of it. What was the result of that? I'm stuck in a school that I hate, a job that I hate, I'm being surrounded by people I hate. I have close to no tolerance left for anything anymore.

People just seem to want to keep pushing me and pushing me until I'm close to my breaking point. The only good thing about school and work, is that I get to get away from my family. It seems like the more my mom tries to know what goes on in my life, she's just really pushing me away. If she wants to know something, she could just ask. I'd tell her. Snooping around in my personal things and conning me into telling her stuff... is SO not doing her any good. And because of this, I'm only going to resent her more.

Now I understand why those trashy girls run away from home and sleep with random truckers.

So I've decided to get the tattoo done. Now I just need to find a good place. I'm getting the Aquarius symbol on my right ankle. My stupidity that leads me to believe in stars have gotten the best of me. But it's not like my sign will change. Sadly.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to go back in time to the days where I was young and happy and my only concern was what time the Power Rangers would be on. But then if I could go back in time, I'd live through all this hell again. So not worth it. I need out. Not another stupid, worthless family vacation. I need to get away by myself. No family, no friends. No nothing. Just me.

Poe

Spirits of the Dead by Edgar Allan Poe

Thy soul shall find itself alone
'Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.
Be silent in that solitude
Which is not loneliness--for then
The spirits of the dead who stood
In life before thee are again
In death around thee--and their will
Shall overshadow thee: be still.
The night--tho' clear--shall frown--
And the stars shall not look down
From their high thrones in the Heaven,
With light like Hope to mortals given--
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee forever.
Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish--
Now are visions ne'er to vanish--
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more--like dew-drops from the grass.
The breeze--the breath of God--is still--
And the mist upon the hill
Shadowy--shadowy--yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token--
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!

1837.

I simply just love this poem. I don't know what it is about Edgar Allan Poe, but his works just make me melt inside and it's like each breathe I take when reading this sends me to the place that he is writing about. He gives such imagery details in his work. It's gorgeous.

Jagged Little Pill

"We're all a little weird. And, life is a little
weird. And, when we find someone whose weirdness is
compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall
into mutually satisfying weirdness....
and call it love."

"I would rather spend everyday fighting with you,
than to spend the rest of my life without you"

"Uses of Great Men"/A friends suicide

"Thus we feed on genius, and refresh ourselves from too much conversation with our mates, and exult in the depth of nature in that direction in which he leads us. What indemnification is one great man for populations of pigmies! Every mother wishes one son a genius, though all the rest should be mediocre. But a new danger appears in the excess of influence of the great man. His attractions warp us from our place. We have become underlings and intellectual suicides. Ah! yonder in the horizon is our help;- other great men, new qualities, counterweights and checks on each other. We cloy of the honey of each peculiar greatness. Every hero becomes a bore at last. Perhaps Voltaire was not bad-hearted, yet he said of the good Jesus, even, "I pray you, let me never hear that man's name again." They cry up the virtues of George Washington,- "Damn George Washington!" is the poor Jacobin's whole speech and confutation. But it is human nature's indispensable defense. The centripetence augments the centrifugence. We balance one man with his opposite, and the health of the state depends on the see-saw." -Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Complete Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson - Volume IV - Representative Men "Uses of Great Men", 1850


"There was something heavy and black and sticky about it [a friend’s suicide], a kind of terrible cloud. I felt sick and like fainting underneath it while I cleaned the apartment bare, like the winter clearing the branches of the trees and the earth with its terrible wind, leaving nothing behind. When someone new moved in with uncrushed dreams, then the spring would return to that apartment. But as for my friend’s widow, she would move on with the winter, following it like a gypsy wherever its cold wind blew, and its emptiness beckoned. It was also the beginning of her end. At that time, some people called my friend a coward. They said he had lacked the courage to face up to his problems, and to deal with the trials life had put in his path. I, always reluctant to speak ill of the dead, did not join in this chorus of condemnation. Was it superstition, (the vengeance of ghosts, and need to bind the threatening figure with love) or some important form of respect? In all events, my friend had proven his courage other times. Did his courage break, or is it only that there are different forms of courage for different challenges, and that we may respond courageously to some situations and not to others. (Perhaps it is like in Orwell’s 1984, where there is that room of horrors that holds the one thing we fear most, different for each of us. To one a rat, to one a bullet, to one a cliff with torrents of water rushing beneath, to one a disease: our personal weak spot, the one “special” thing that will break us, even if we are made of iron.) The question bothered me a long time. I felt a loyalty to my friend’s memory, a desire not to “sell him short,” and remember him as a coward; yet also, the suicide seemed such a tragedy, and there was a heavy darkness about it, not a bright, liberating shining. I concluded that I owed my friend a moratorium from judgment. There was both bravery and perhaps a lack of it in his action. The physical act of actually getting a gun, loading it, setting himself up with it, and pulling the trigger, which I went over in my mind again and again in my effort to understand him, did require physical courage - just like the act of jumping off the Empire State Building, which someone else I knew much more peripherally, did. But what of the courage of facing life’s challenges? I concluded that for him, bred to a different idea of courage, it was not easy to find valor in living out a humiliating demeaning life with no apparent light at the end of the tunnel. … I finally concluded that my friend was not a coward; that he simply had not reached the perspective on life that could have enabled him to carry on. This is why I feel that spiritual understanding, and connection with spirit, is so crucial to survive in this world, because raw courage may not be enough. The proudest lion who would keep on fighting if he was filled with arrows, might be killed by a mere shadow. There comes a dark time, a confusing time, when only insight can bring courage, and that is why the spiritual path is so crucial to any sensitive being on this planet. …Could it be, whenever we face a life crisis, as though our soul was seeking to cross a deep and difficult river in its path, and that we must keep on wandering along the shore, for the rest of time, until we finally find a place to cross, and dare to make the crossing? If so, we might as well do it now. If it’s painful now, why stay stuck in it, why keep perpetuating it for eternity? Certainly, things we do in this life can haunt us and imprison us within this life. …As the saying goes, no matter how hard you try, “you can’t run away from yourself” –which may be what we’re doing whenever we run away from a hardship life has ‘“forced” upon us. Therefore, I believe that we must struggle with all our heart and insight, to go on, and never take our own lives. …Suicide is only rescheduling the ordeal for another time—and if we cannot pass through the hardship now, what is it that will make us be able to pass through it in the future? On the contrary, the more deeply the precedent of collapsing is entrenched within our souls, the harder it is likely to become to break through the barrier in the future. It is as though our souls were bleeding. Better to fight now, before we lose more blood! And yet one more way to think about suicide: Look at a part of yourself that was beautiful, a childhood photograph, a picture that you drew, something that evokes tenderness before the self-hate set in. Something that evokes that maternal/paternal instinct that has kept our human race from dying out - the heart’s pull towards that which is helpless and beautifully fresh, whether we have fathered/mothered it or not. Accept that child into your care, like an orphan…given to you to love, even if no one else does, to care for, to be a guardian of. Imagine yourself carrying that fragile, beautiful being with you along a hard, dark road. Can you see yourself saying, “Enough!”, and just throwing that child off your back or out of your arms, down onto the hard ground at the side of the road, leaving it behind in the cold to die? Of course not!…"