Thursday, November 24, 2005

Death by caffeine.

It would take 84.5 Grande Americanos to kill me.

Know your limits.

Friday, November 04, 2005

Songs about happiness, murmured in dreams

My first day on the espresso bar. I didn't even feel like crying when it was over. I just walked out of Starbucks and thought about how pretty the lights look downtown when it starts to get dark. There were blue lights in the trees (FYI: John K. Sampson is a 'faulty string of blue christmas lights'). Then I thought wouldn't it be more lovely if all the lights were turned off and the visible patches of sky between the buildings were smothered in stars.
I sat across from an interesting character on the train. Nondescript, well, business-like I guess. Then he turned on his mp3 player and he really got into the music. Head bobbing, shoe tapping, air piano and drums. He looked like he was so moved he was going to cry.
I would've given my venti green tea misto to know what he was listening to.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

Diagnosis (The Weakerthans)

I have a headache.
I have a sore back.
I have a letter I can't send.I have desire,
it falters and falls down,
it calls you up drunk at three or four a.m.
to wonder when...wonderful.
All the cheap tricks I tried too hard not to pull.
Pulled along or pulled apart.
The diagnosis of a foreign frame of heart.
I have a story that I'd like to tell you,
it's littered with settings and second takes.
I have a feeling that hums with the street lights
and hides under ice in always frozen lakes.
My mistake to make you cringe.
Another greeting like a broken creaky hinge to oil
and push or pry apart.
The diagnosis of a foreign frame of heart.
Found a cure for being sure,
and, sure as anything,
I'll smile for my reckoning.