Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
I'm not a ParasitE
It's just all symbiotic!
Just two separate entities
Living a lie
I Can't do much without you
You can all without me
But you still insist on being infected
and taking me along for the ride
I know I can survive on my own
just barely
You can do fine without my help
You could say we're commensal or maybe mutualistic
But we know we're FLUX
Just two separate entities
Living a lie
I Can't do much without you
You can all without me
But you still insist on being infected
and taking me along for the ride
I know I can survive on my own
just barely
You can do fine without my help
You could say we're commensal or maybe mutualistic
But we know we're FLUX
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Suburbia Scene
FLMST 102 - Scene assignment #1 from SubUrbia(1996) - http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120238/
I feel this one. It's about having and losing. About people and what we let them do to us almost against our own will. Open, again and again but goddamn I knew your actions maybe before even you did. I almost want to laugh at the repetition, floundering pathetic and I wish it was not me. Not you.
I'm worried. Insecure. I hear myself say the memorized words and know they sound fake. I know that I'm fake. I want to succeed but to let your strange topography touch me deep is an invasion of privacy that I can't stand. The past lets me relate to this other person's fantasy but keeps me from letting you see that I know, I understand. Is that ironic?
"Six-fifty" becomes a plea for understanding "come with me" I LOVE YOU and "new ground" becomes everything I ever hated about you.
It's not really acting anymore, is it?
I feel this one. It's about having and losing. About people and what we let them do to us almost against our own will. Open, again and again but goddamn I knew your actions maybe before even you did. I almost want to laugh at the repetition, floundering pathetic and I wish it was not me. Not you.
I'm worried. Insecure. I hear myself say the memorized words and know they sound fake. I know that I'm fake. I want to succeed but to let your strange topography touch me deep is an invasion of privacy that I can't stand. The past lets me relate to this other person's fantasy but keeps me from letting you see that I know, I understand. Is that ironic?
"Six-fifty" becomes a plea for understanding "come with me" I LOVE YOU and "new ground" becomes everything I ever hated about you.
It's not really acting anymore, is it?
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Intermission Breaks the Illusion
Wrapped in your insecurities I greet the morning with the friction of our flesh, pushing pulling dashed against my dreams. You never slept so poorly. I stood face upturned in your barrage of words you give so easily, and knew this storm could not last but I thought we could ignore the forecast a while longer. And now someone's sunny days have arrived and I find myself again voyeuristic, always leaving leaving never left.
I never dream anymore. Only play pretend with myself and others, your temporary cooperation is appreciated. Thank you, don't come again.
A revolving cast of distinct faces, my roots seep down through the cracks in the stage and I can't help but wonder out loud "Who today, and what tomorrow?"
Put pen to paper, everybody plays and are played.
Maybe I never should've put myself between five sons. Do you reap what you fuck?
I never dream anymore. Only play pretend with myself and others, your temporary cooperation is appreciated. Thank you, don't come again.
A revolving cast of distinct faces, my roots seep down through the cracks in the stage and I can't help but wonder out loud "Who today, and what tomorrow?"
Put pen to paper, everybody plays and are played.
Maybe I never should've put myself between five sons. Do you reap what you fuck?
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