Oh boy.
Yet again... another storm on the horizon. i guess i should be used to stormy days and nights. i have a grip of them. Just happens that it never rains here in the desert.
So. i have solved my loneliness issue. i will just stay alone. If that perfect "Misses PirateFace" comes along... so be it. But i am done trying to impress people. i just want to be happy with my fucked up self first, and kiddo's it's gonna take a hell of an exorcism to push those emo/whiny/sad thoughts aside. I mean hell, if your gonna be good at something right?
But brass tacks... i am doing it for my son.
i know that me listening to Vampire Weekend is a bit of an oxymoron but... they just make me smile and feel so friggin' good. Why can't everybody just love the hell out of them? On a much drearier front, Nine Inch Nails and Arcade Fire are both in the studio. Know what that means cat's and kitten's??? It means a plethora of sad, beautiful and loud music is forthcoming. YAY!
On a separate musical note... Portishead will never be the same again for me... ever. (Especially "Roads") Thanks chedder.
i can only update from work or random computers as my home PC is on deaths door. It overheats after only a few and shuts off. soooooo sad about that. i miss my mix cd's. Anybody wanna make me one? I'm easy, just throw some whiny crap on there and i am game.
On other news.
Climbed a mountain on spring break. 8 hour hike and it busted my ass...
but fun as ever. (Thanks Brandon)
That's all i got for now... here be some scraps of raw poetry straight from the diseased brain of El Capitan PirateFace.
She never knew...
She never knew that i would hold her hand as she slept.
That i would sketch her sleeping face into my mind to lay dormant forever.
That when she was away i truly missed her.
When she was angry, i never hated her for it...
just tried to make sense of what I had done wrong.
But she is gone...
and now she will never know how much i would have loved her.
and i think....
it's a fucking riot.
Please ease your mind
we sit and tear the fabric of our being up into small piles that we leave out...
easier to judge ourselves.
our poor beaten bodies suffer the scabs and scars of all our battle wounds,
invisible scars that make up the collective of our hearts.
we cry and sob and weep and plead and beg for absolution.
For some returned empathy or compassion.
We bite our fat swollen tongues till the point of bleeding to keep our honesty at bay.
my truth can kill...
but we are too nice to let that venom into the bloodstream.
we just want to be loved and cared for and touched.
we just want to be known.
Captain PirateFace
"I felt like crying but nothing came out. it was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can't feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then. but I think I have known it pretty often, too often." — Charles Bukowski (Tales of Ordinary Madness)
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