A little pop-ish (dare I say even a little bit too mainstream? xD), but a ton of cute fun <3
&I don't want the same disease / that everybody's got these days.
An old classic.
Woof, final exam blues.
Woof, final exam blues.
&You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness.
Who's going to teach me how to play the game?
Who's going to come on late night Capo dates with me?
Who's going to be muh competitive byotch?
Who's going to call me out for being an idiot?
Will miss you, girl ): Take care <3
To the One Who is Reading Me ( A QUIEN ESTÁ LEYÉNDOME)
- Jorge Luis Borges (translated by Tony Barnstone)
You are invulnerable. Didn’t they deliver
(those forces that control your destiny)
the certainty of dust? Couldn’t it be
your irreversible time is that river
in whose bright mirror Heraclitus read
his brevity? A marble slab is saved
for you, one you won’t read, already graved
with city, epitaph, dates of the dead.
And other men are also dreams of time,
not hardened bronze, purified gold. They’re dust
like you; the universe is Proteus.
Shadow, you’ll travel to what waits ahead,
the fatal shadow waiting at the rim.
Know this: in some way you’re already dead.
(Eres invulnerable. ¿No te han dado
los números que rigen tu destino
certidumbre de polvo? ¿No es acaso
tu irreversible tiempo el de aquel río
en cuyo espejo Heráclito vio el símbolo
de su fugacidad? Te espera el mármol
que no leerás. En él ya están escritos
la fecha, la ciudad y el epitafio.
Sueños del tiempo son también los otros,
no firme bronce ni acendrado oro;
el universo es, como tú, Proteo.
Sombra, irás a la sombra que te aguarda
fatal en el confín de tu jornada;
piensa que de algún modo ya estás muerto.)
los números que rigen tu destino
certidumbre de polvo? ¿No es acaso
tu irreversible tiempo el de aquel río
en cuyo espejo Heráclito vio el símbolo
de su fugacidad? Te espera el mármol
que no leerás. En él ya están escritos
la fecha, la ciudad y el epitafio.
Sueños del tiempo son también los otros,
no firme bronce ni acendrado oro;
el universo es, como tú, Proteo.
Sombra, irás a la sombra que te aguarda
fatal en el confín de tu jornada;
piensa que de algún modo ya estás muerto.)
Why are you striving these days? / Why are you trying to earn grace?
Wow, this Facebook withdrawal thing is hitting me hard. In the meantime, I'm rediscovering a lot of the bands that I used to love. Young the Giant, in particular, is a great and lighthearted band to listen to. Hailing from Irvine, the band combines Indie gravity with cute, sometimes upbeat lyrics (a little trite, granted, but a good listen nonetheless).
My first YtG song was "My Body" - definitely a classic (and the Two Door Cinema Club remix is AWESOME).
Biggest regret was definitely not seeing them when they were at Popped Philadelphia because we'd left early.
Cheers.
My first YtG song was "My Body" - definitely a classic (and the Two Door Cinema Club remix is AWESOME).
Biggest regret was definitely not seeing them when they were at Popped Philadelphia because we'd left early.
Cheers.
It's a fever / It's a fire.
I messed up. I'm sorry.
Speaking To You (From Rock Bottom)
- Michael Ondaatje
Speaking To You (From Rock Bottom)
- Michael Ondaatje
Speaking to you
this hour
these days when
I have lost the feather of poetry
and the rains
of separation
surround us tock
tock like Go tablets
Everyone has learned
to move carefully
'Dancing' 'laughing' 'bad taste'
is a memory
a tableau behind trees of law
In the midst of love for you
my wife's suffering
anger in every direction
and the children wise
as tough shrubs
but they are not tough
--so I fear
how anything can grow from this
all the wise blood
poured from little cuts
down into the sink
this hour it is not
your body I want
but your quiet company
this hour
these days when
I have lost the feather of poetry
and the rains
of separation
surround us tock
tock like Go tablets
Everyone has learned
to move carefully
'Dancing' 'laughing' 'bad taste'
is a memory
a tableau behind trees of law
In the midst of love for you
my wife's suffering
anger in every direction
and the children wise
as tough shrubs
but they are not tough
--so I fear
how anything can grow from this
all the wise blood
poured from little cuts
down into the sink
this hour it is not
your body I want
but your quiet company
