lift.
-radiohead
This is the place
Sit down, you're safe now
You've been stuck in a lift
We've been trying to reach you, Thom
This is the place
It won't hurt, it will not end
The smell of recognition
A face you barely loved
Empty all your pockets
'Cause it's time to come home
This is the place
Remember me? I'm that face you always see
You've been stuck in a lift
In the belly of a whale at the bottom of the ocean
The smell of recognition
A face you barely loved
Empty all your pockets
'Cause it's time to come home
The smell of recognition
A face you barely loved
Let it go, let it go
Today is the first day
Of the rest of your days
So lighten up, squirt
Friday, September 02, 2005
let it fall.
How I Made My Millions.
-Radiohead
I was stronger
I was better
Picked you out
Now don't say a word
No don't yell out
Never mind
Let you out
Led you back
Stay on
Sit down
Let it fall
Let it fall
Let it fall
Let it fall
-Radiohead
I was stronger
I was better
Picked you out
Now don't say a word
No don't yell out
Never mind
Let you out
Led you back
Stay on
Sit down
Let it fall
Let it fall
Let it fall
Let it fall
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
.and the complications when I see His face
below is a link to an excellent commentary on sufjan stevens' "casimir pulaski day". i don't agree with some of it, but it gives the mind something of substance to munch on. wrestling with God is good, asking God, speaking with God, is good. maturing in faith, dealing with topics where the answer may never seem clear, working out our salvation....all good things. in the end, God will be glorified.
"Rather than trying to reconcile his shallow world view, he has to reconcile something which seems much greater - his love for God conflicts with the reality of life and death."
Casimir Pulaski Day from Illinois
.by sufjan stevens
Goldenrod and the 4H stone,
the things I brought you,
when I found out you had cancer of the bone
Your father cried on the telephone,
and he drove his car into the navy yard,
just to prove that he was sorry
In the morning, through the window shade,
when the light pressed up against your shoulderblade,
I could see what you were reading.
All the glory that the Lord has made,
and the complications you could do without,
when I kissed you on the mouth.
Tuesday night at the Bible study,
we lift our hands and pray over your body,
but nothing ever happens.
I remember at Michael's house,
in the living room when you kissed my mouth,
and I almost touched your blouse.
In the morning at the top of the stairs,
when your father found out what we did that night,
and you told me you were scared.
All the glory when you ran outside,
with your shirt tucked in and your shoes untied,
and you told me not to follow you.
Sunday night when I cleaned the house,
I find the card where you wrote it out,
with the pictures of you mother.
On the floor at the great divide,
with my shirt tucked in and my shoes untied,
I am crying in the bathroom.
In the morning when you finally go,
and the nurse runs in with her head hung low,
and the cardinal hits the window.
In the morning in the winter shade,
on the 1st of March on the holiday,
I thought I saw you breathing.
All the glory that the Lord has made,
and the complications when I see His face,
in the morning in the window.
All the glory when He took our place,
but He took my shoulders and He shook my face,
and He takes and He takes and He takes
"Rather than trying to reconcile his shallow world view, he has to reconcile something which seems much greater - his love for God conflicts with the reality of life and death."
Casimir Pulaski Day from Illinois
.by sufjan stevens
Goldenrod and the 4H stone,
the things I brought you,
when I found out you had cancer of the bone
Your father cried on the telephone,
and he drove his car into the navy yard,
just to prove that he was sorry
In the morning, through the window shade,
when the light pressed up against your shoulderblade,
I could see what you were reading.
All the glory that the Lord has made,
and the complications you could do without,
when I kissed you on the mouth.
Tuesday night at the Bible study,
we lift our hands and pray over your body,
but nothing ever happens.
I remember at Michael's house,
in the living room when you kissed my mouth,
and I almost touched your blouse.
In the morning at the top of the stairs,
when your father found out what we did that night,
and you told me you were scared.
All the glory when you ran outside,
with your shirt tucked in and your shoes untied,
and you told me not to follow you.
Sunday night when I cleaned the house,
I find the card where you wrote it out,
with the pictures of you mother.
On the floor at the great divide,
with my shirt tucked in and my shoes untied,
I am crying in the bathroom.
In the morning when you finally go,
and the nurse runs in with her head hung low,
and the cardinal hits the window.
In the morning in the winter shade,
on the 1st of March on the holiday,
I thought I saw you breathing.
All the glory that the Lord has made,
and the complications when I see His face,
in the morning in the window.
All the glory when He took our place,
but He took my shoulders and He shook my face,
and He takes and He takes and He takes
Friday, July 08, 2005
and in my best behavior
"We are ruthless creatures. I felt insurmountable empathy not with his behavior, but with his nature, and there was nothing I could do to get around confessing that, however horrifying it sounds."
John Wayne Gacy, Jr. from Illinois
.by sufjan stevens
His father was a drinker
And his mother cried in bed
Folding John Wayne's T-shirts
When the swingset hit his head
The neighbors they adored him
For his humor and his conversation
Look underneath the house there
Find the few living things
Rotting fast in their sleep of the dead
Twenty-seven people, even more
They were boys with their cars, summer jobs
Oh my God
Are you one of them?
He dressed up like a clown for them
With his face paint white and red
And on his best behavior
In a dark room on the bed he kissed them all
He'd kill ten thousand people
With a sleight of his hand
Running far, running fast to the dead
He took of all their clothes for them
He put a cloth on their lips
Quiet hands, quiet kiss
On the mouth
And in my best behavior
I am really just like him
Look beneath the floorboards
For the secrets I have hid
John Wayne Gacy, Jr. from Illinois
.by sufjan stevens
His father was a drinker
And his mother cried in bed
Folding John Wayne's T-shirts
When the swingset hit his head
The neighbors they adored him
For his humor and his conversation
Look underneath the house there
Find the few living things
Rotting fast in their sleep of the dead
Twenty-seven people, even more
They were boys with their cars, summer jobs
Oh my God
Are you one of them?
He dressed up like a clown for them
With his face paint white and red
And on his best behavior
In a dark room on the bed he kissed them all
He'd kill ten thousand people
With a sleight of his hand
Running far, running fast to the dead
He took of all their clothes for them
He put a cloth on their lips
Quiet hands, quiet kiss
On the mouth
And in my best behavior
I am really just like him
Look beneath the floorboards
For the secrets I have hid
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Splendor of ended day...
e.e. cummings - love is a place...
love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places
yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skilfully curled)
all worlds
love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places
yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skilfully curled)
all worlds
Friday, May 27, 2005
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Monday, January 10, 2005
my favorite things. 2004. from what i remember.
in no particular order, what just happens to come to mind.
- warm, forgiving friends
- the arcade fire's funeral
- red wine
- a semblance of emotional stability
- the shins
- the incredibles
i wish i were oprah and had the national power she has in roping in companies to give stuff away. i can only offer mixtapes.
- warm, forgiving friends
- the arcade fire's funeral
- red wine
- a semblance of emotional stability
- the shins
- the incredibles
i wish i were oprah and had the national power she has in roping in companies to give stuff away. i can only offer mixtapes.
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