||[Apr. 24th, 2004|01:41 pm]
|||||polish my teeth for dinner||]|
|||||crown me king- silo, silo burning bright||]|
so, it turns out that i enjoy the beach boys. this is probably really obvious to anyone who knows dick about music, seeing as the pixies were a surfer band, but what do i know? i'm half-retarded when it comes to music, & my exposure to the beach boys to date had been listening to "babaran" on the oldies station during car rides with my parents. man, fuck the oldies station, fuck the same 12 songs in rotation till doomsday.
man i've got a stomach full of anger about so many things. ha ha ha oh man. i want to be the boy who messes girls up. thats my mojo! i'm cruel, & a bastard, & i linger around just to see you curl up like fetal smoke! my middle name is pulling scabs off of other people's wounds. i want to be the one who sends a few words into your gut & twists them. here is me like dead wood, sides squirming with bark beetles. you love me & i love you so how am i supposed to hurt you? or i mean, with panache. sure i could monkey wrench the whole thing, but i'm over that impulse. i'm just saying- i'm jealous when other boys make you sad. so i'm always going to be mad at exes, always hating people who have that casual hand. who poison what we have with their having ever layed hand on you.