New  »   Sunshine Jen  ·  Robot Journal  ·  Post-Modern Drunkard  ·  Poop Beetle  ·  Gator Country

«« past   |   future »»

all comments

post #302
bio: chris

first post
that week

Previous Posts
On Sting (and other crap)
Things I Say to My Dad, Because (like myself) He Thinks, Irrationally, He's Going to Die Soon
Why Hipstamatic Was Invented
Happy Mother's Day, Y'all
Black Pear Tree (Guest Post from John Darnielle)

Palmcorder Yajna Interrupted
You should probably listen to this in the background. Open it in a new window.

I've been sick today. Which means I slept til 3 PM today. Because I could, and I couldn't see myself doing anything else more productive than getting myself healthy through sleep.

Well, that's not entirely true. I woke up around 9 AM after having nightmares where zombies tried to drag my brother into the ranks of the undead. The zombies infected squirrels with their disease, and the zombie squirrels set up shop in the unbuilt parts of my parents' rebuilt house. My dad and I fucked up some zombie squirrel shit, and that was awesome. But what was more awesome was that I knew how to beat the zombie squirrels, and my dad actually listened to my methods. And we herded the zombie squirrels onto a plane bound for St. Petersburg, Russia. So my dad, me, and the zombie squirrels got onto a plane. When we arrived, we were welcomed by people who remembered me from my visit in 1993 They fed us with smoked fish and caviar and weird gelatinous meats which my dad enjoyed so much that he said to me "tell your mother we're dead because I'm never going back after this".

At which point I was woken up by a large dog vomiting on my foot. So I got up, put some pants on, let her chase some squirrels and mini-dogs and picked up her warm, warm poop in plastic bags. My father would be so proud.

THEN I crashed on the couch and woke up at 3 PM. My iTunes was blasting the whole time. Same song I went to sleep to the first time. On repeat. Song at the top of the page.

Holt boulevard
between Gary and White

I always hear this as "Holt Boulevard, between Berry and Wythe".

I hooked up with some friends at the Travelodge
set ourselves up for the night

Those intersections make no sense. But my friend J, whose last name is Holt... we always seem to meet at the Levee in Williamsburg off Berry and someshit. Which I pretend is Wythe. So whenever I hear the opening to this song, I figure I'm meeting my old friend on his boulevard which connects to one of my favorite bars.

Thing is with J, though, he's full of surprises. It's never just you and J and that's that. No. He's got some surprise guests up his ass which you're not expecting except that you should, because he's J, and he's gonna bring all the guns to town.

The opening to this song says to me "J's in town and we're hooking up at the Travelodge for the night, because we've all got a shitload to catch up on". And J's guest is my first girlfriend who lived 2 houses down from him when we were in high school. The girl that, the morning after I lost my virginity, J climbs up on the roof and through her window and seems surprised I'm there.

She's moved to New York now. And here we all are.

Carpenter ants in the dresser
Huge black flies in the screen
It's gonna be too late by the time we learn
what these cryptic symbols mean

Holy fuck. Here we are in our thirties and unbeknownst to me when I woke up that day, mother of God, we're back in the mid-nineties.

And I dreamt
of a house
haunted by all you tweakers with your hands out

Going back to my dream from this morning. My brother is being courted to the Dark Side by zombies. I'm siding with my dad but never really vanquishing the zombies or saving my brother... just relocating the problems. Goal #1 is finding a place where we're happy without all the crap. Goal #2, taking the zombies on head-on, is a fallback. And seems the least realistic. I'm trying to convince my dad that we can't stay in St. Petersburg. That we shouldn't stay in St. Petersburg. We have family. We have people to take care of and we sure as hell can't stay there if we like who we are, cuz you taught me we don't stand for this. And I'm being told "that doesn't matter". That "we gotta take what’s given to us and run."

And the headstones climbed up the hills
And the headstones climbed up the hills

Yeah... ya think? Out of nowhere, my teenage nirvana shows up in my home 12 years later and I'm having nightmares about my family abandoning itself.

Send somebody out for Ativan
comb through the carpet for clues
reflective tape on our sweatpants
gaping holes in our shoes

I'm looking through shit. You know. For clues. Dad. Family. Ninety-four meets Aught-eight. I think of my friend Justin from high school. He's married now. Inherited a construction company. Everything was on the up and up. First two kids he had.. died. He was the "perfect guy". Smart dood. Worked out. Was a health nut since the day he turned 16. He did everything "right". By the book.

He wants kids. He's got everything else. Why is everything fucking up for him?

Every couple minutes
someone says he can't stand it anymore
laugh lines on our faces
relief maps of the civil war

"relief maps of the civil war" is the key line here. The line in the album version is "scale maps of the ocean floor", which is all well and good. But "relief maps of the Civil War" is so much better. There comes a moment when, whatever it is, you just can't stand it anymore. And you stop hearing the noise around you, what people are saying and what they have on the tee-vee, and you just sort of see shit as it is. Some of your friends doing stupid shit over here, some other things where you're doing stupid shit over there, and some shit is just stupid and you want some clean drinking water.

And I dreamt of a camera
pointing out from inside the television
and the aperture
yawning and blinking

«« past   |   future »»

Favorite Things
· The World/Inferno Friendship Society