Christmas was over by 9 this morning. (I celebrate with children.) So, I spent the extra time this morning making a new myspace account, of course. 

http://myspace.com/jenniferbethlarson

Now, it's time to play with their new Wii.

Currently River of Dreams By Billy Joel No Man's Land see related

If you haven't guessed, I only want relationships that grow.  I'm not interested in looking back, or allowing things to remain the same. Nope. We don't have enough time for that. What is it that Kung Fu Panda says? A guy I met on the train quoted this to me, but he didn't know if he had it right. I hadn't -planned on talking to anyone on the train. In fact, I spent an hour ranting to Sam and her friends yesterday about how much I hate when people talk to me on the train. But of course, I stood in line, asked someone if it was the line for the Wolverine, and ended up talking to this guy for 6 hours. He is an Earth Science teacher, plays in bands in Chicago, and is all about astrology and crazy Mayan math, so we had a lot to talk about.

Sam was a darling yesterday. We woke up, she took me to lunch, then she came back with me to help me pack, clean, and get stuff for my cat. We had a great night Friday, also. After going to the Store, she asked me to hang out with her friends as the Closet. On the way there, we stoppped in the middle of a street to grab each other and kiss passionately, and I blurted out "Will you be my girlfriend???" And she said she'd get back to me. Well, we talked about it at lunch the next day, and I'm totally fine with our decision not to make that distinction. She's weary of me, I'm weary of me. I don't trust myself. I told her that I wouldn't doubt if, as soon as I told her I'd be exclusive, that I'd fuck someone just because I'm scared, even though I haven't been with anyone else in months. I don't want to be with anyone else. I told her I want to tell her I love her, but she thinks saying that means that you would die for that person. I'd die for her. I'd die for a lot of things, it's true.

When I got home, Katie was having a sleepover with her friend, and they were listening to the album I recorded in high school. I totally forgot about this thing. I wrote some really deep stuff. I'd like to upload it and post a link, once I figure out how.

One lyric I keep mulling over is indicitive of all of my personal issues, "Can I tell them what I know? I hear the answer 'No!' No, they won't understand! No, they won't listen! No, they won't have the patience to hold open their hands!'"

My ears are ringing. I have so many songs in my head. Most of them are yours, or something you sang to me, once. Do you ever feel uncreative? I do. Some times I feel like I'll never write another good line, I'll never complete a song, I'll never really get how to put something meaningful together. I'm just another. crazy. artistic. dreamer. It's a fear of mine, one that has a substanstial history and good reason. Amy never did. I guess that's the main one. Amy never finished one great work, and she has so many on her mind, all the time. Like me, I suppose.

I can't remember the chords to most of the songs I wrote a few years ago. I hope to stumble on a notebook in which I wrote them all down. I can't construct anything by myself-- I need support. I show that by supporting other people. I like that I'm not a funny player in improv, but a supportive one. I'm glad to know I can help polish off other people's songs-- that was something I worried I'd never achieve, or be capable of. I hope I am allowed to make great things, I hope I can complete them, I hope people are willing to listen.

Planting seeds. Every seed is its own universe. Thank you for seeing this. I don't want credit for it, it's not mine to take. I give you credit. Just for believing in me once. Just that one time you let me know you believed in me. That is litterally why I'm still alive, why I even think I can do this.  

Currently Modern Life Is Rubbish By Blur When the Cows Come Home see related

Lightening Wire (Are You There?)

Our bodies are machines

organic energy, indeed

Your bones are batteries

and there are two-way mirrors in your legs

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You run on land like a dilong

headstrong, dissolving diphthongs

a pit-bull in a  pastey-shop, you dance

between the seams on Mimal’s masterful hand

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As magnetic fields heal the tension

between the poles, gossamer folds

fill black holes with gauze, the way

rabbits cover themselves with the ground

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Cupid floats, as if in a Western

pulling darts from his diaper,

popping silica-filled bubbles

blown from the lips of volcanoes,

from his position as the panopticon

prison guard, dressed as a firefly

in the Outer Twilight—

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Lover’s mouth signals to shipmen

over the songs of whales

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And it’s true,

we hum mantras

speak double-entendres

fight off raindrops

wearing ponchos 

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And although our brains won’t explode,

perhaps this image will