where the sidewalk ends

i wonder what it's like to know that i made the rain | straight up, what did you hope to learn about here?
i wish the real world would just stop hassling me, and you, and you and me...

i've lost my ability to concentrate on one thought for more than thirty seconds. really only when i'm trying to write. and i hate writer's block. but its more than just that now; i'm living in a state of constant hyper-sped thought because there are these pieces of the sky just falling through the sidewalk right in front of my face, and i have to be three steps ahead of everything if i want to survive. i dodge by thinking, and talking, and spinning in metaphorical circles. in emotional spirals.

and we carry each other (but i carry your heart, i carry it in my heart)

tangential. i am, you are. that's where it's coming from, i think. it really couldn't be any other way, because there is no other logical explanation. not that this is logical. but nothing has been logical for years, and i've gotten used to living in a chaotic sort of calm. [is this depressing? that i've learned how to live through things? because i never wanted to know how to do that. it's not that i wish that i could be shattered. to be broken so hard that i'm gasping and watching the world fade out in swirls of colored light, as if i had been hit in the face, or held my breath too long. but it is becoming more difficult to fracture me, because i've stopped putting all of the pieces back when they fall out. its like a self-continuation of the slow decay that gravity is causing.]

the world owes me nothing | and we owe each other the world

i could try to express how lucky i am, but it's impossible. and i could attempt to write down in words why you are my person, and how much i would cease to exist if something ever happened to you, yet i can't. but if there ever comes a day when i can no longer turn to you and have you explain the way my heart works, because you're gone, i'll be done. you can't leave me first. not everyone has that in someone, and i promise to whatever fucking other-worldly omniscient or otherwise deity that may or may not exist out in that great wide universe, i do not take it for granted.

does anyone else feel like we're all just living in a cosmic game of russian roulette?

the things they carried:
1. keep moving forward when things are scary. chances are everyone else around you is just as terrified, and their strength is resonating from your skin.
2. protect each other. wield your heart like a weapon, and watch the repercussions flicker through the waves you make in your friends.
3. refuse to forget. [this is not synonymous for wallowing.]
4. let your scars heal.
5. sing with tears in your throat. the pain that hides in the back of your mouth will escape, and it will seem that the stream is unending. but it will. all things will pass, in the end.

and i have learned
that even landlocked lovers yearn
for the sea

baby prairie dogs. going to the zoo, and being something more than what i'm used to. crying in the middle of a sidewalk full of strangers. playing with cards. being excited to spend time. finding strips of film at james madison park. water people. raspberry chocolate chip cookies.

sæglópur, á lífi
kominn heim
(a lost seafarer, alive
has returned home)

[the big ship]: brian eno
[brothers on a hotel bed]: death cab for cutie
[hold on, hold on]: neko case
[real world]: matchbox 20
[sæglópur]: sigur ros
[somebody to love]: queen
[straw dog]: something corporate (live at london park)

clementine: but you will! but you will. you know, you will think of things. and i'll get bored with you and feel trapped because that's what happens with me.
joel: okay.