Lemonade and Glass Keeping This Alive… part 4

 

Part 1Part 2Part 3

 

Heart-shaped Box by Nirvana (Lemons)

I know, I know. How unoriginal of me. But I fucking love the shit out of this song and it is our list. Lol

I used to sing this song a lot while I was knocked up. I used to sway and sing it as if it were a lullaby. Especially given the lyrics and their possible meaning. Talks of Courtney Love’s “Tar pit trap” and “Meat eating orchid” … yeah… Damn women, using their lady bits to ensnare men since… forever. I joke, but it is partially true. But I just love this haunting melody and you simply can’t beat Kurt’s voice.

 

All You Ever Wanted by The Black Keys (Glass)

This duo… is insane… this track… this track is one that is a soundtrack for my life… another great track to walk into work too… or for the drive home… “All you ever wanted was for someone to treat you nice and kind”… “Take a step before running, Take a breath now before you die”… “When you work the streets darling, Make sure your sneaker laces get tied”… “I’ll be your black bird darling, Hanging on your telephone wire”… At one point I was going to write a TV show… years ago… this was to be the theme song to the show… the music fit the images in my head so well… oh well… shit happens… ideas change… fuck you cartoon network… 

 

Wicked Sensitive Crew by Dropkick Murphys (Lemons)

I love me some Celtic Punk and who are the kings of that? This song is just good. And the fact that they say “In Sydney they misunderstood us” … Well, that just sums up my hometown… I don’t have any strange memories associated with this song, I just like it.

“Yeah, we’re touchy, feely, sensitive guys. I ain’t ashamed I cried when Mickey died in Rocky II.” The band actually came out and said that they know the lyric is not correct, but “Rocky II” simply sounded better.

(Me again… stealing the thunder from down under… amazing band to see live… on a side note if you ever get a chance to see Flogging Molly live… take it… even if you aren’t a fan… they are one of those bands where the records don’t do them justice… Like the Murphy’s…)

 

Cookie Thumper by Die Antwoord (Glass)

(I did edit out the first two minutes of this video… I know not cool… but you can always start it over if you want…)

I’m not a fan of this intro… because I want to get to the song… but it sets up the rest of the song and no one said you had to love everything one of your favorite bands does… Do I like this band because they are awesome?.. Do I like this group because of the lyrics?… Because of their style?… Their personality of not giving a fuck?… Because Yolandi is the sexiest woman I have ever seen?… Who the fuck knows…. But I can’t get enough… Zef for Life… “I smell lovely because I don’t eat meat”…

 

Already Gone by Powderfinger (Lemons)

I need to add an Aussie band in every now and then. I have zero idea if anyone outside of Australia knows who these guys are… Surely you do? Right?

Well, if you have never heard this song, please listen then come back and tell me if you do not relate to this fucking song.

“You’ve been working all your life. All weekends and overtime.” Who hasn’t been there?

“All these things are on your mind. And you can’t relax in a scheduled life” yep… I feel that…

“So keep your love forever young” … true story.

All work and no play. Love and relationships not being what they once were, or never were but should have been. Yep. All of those things. Sing it guys.

 

Wave of the Mutilation by The Pixies

It’s the fucking Pixies… that and that alone is enough… also, check out the UK Surf version… because somehow they took a great track and made it better… The Pixies…

 

That went quicker than I expected… Next week we add five more songs each to the playlist…and tell more stories about how they inspire us… See you then…

Ambrose (Glass)

It’s A Funny Story… Even If It Isn’t…

Trying something new… Imagine that… I haven’t written anything new outside of poetry and the new story I am working on… Sadly that isn’t for the website… Redoing my next book… well kind of… I had this whole theme I was running through the whole book… I didn’t like it… not the story, but the theme… or the idea… shit happens… so I am overhauling a few things… and none of this matters… 

Recently I have decided that I’m really into boardgame boards… it is for an art project that I have locked in my head… so I went to my local Goodwill… and picked up any that I found interesting… one of them happened to be the Match Game… or so I thought… what I actually got was some came from the 70’s called The Ungame… yeah I had never heard of it either… more about the history of the game here… well the point of the game is to start a conversation or get you talking… the concept is just lame enough that I am in love with it… so at least once a week… I will be posting a question from the game… there are a fuck ton of questions… I will give my answer and then it is your turn… yeah… we are going to play a little game… 

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This Week’s Question

What activity do you engage in that involves all of you: your mind, your body, and your soul?

(Softball question I know… It’s the first week…) The most obvious answer for me is writing… I put everything into this… my books… and my projects… so I’m not going to waste your time telling you something you could have guessed…So I am going to have to go with the thing that takes more of me than writing… My daughter… 

Mind… my daughter tests me every day with her three million questions about the same thing… or when she says… “I show you… I show you”… when she wants me to hear her sing… as I am trying to put out a grill fire… life be damned… stop and look at me… or when I have to hear Twinkle Twinkle Litte Star one more damn time… when all I want to do is listen to my favorite song… 

Body… whether she is digging her tiny little feet into me like I don’t exist… or swinging her arms at me like a crazed mad woman when she doesn’t want to leave the park… making me look like a kidnapper or awful person… or screaming into my ear to the point that it rings… because why not… “You’re so funny”… No, I’m so deaf now… 

Soul… because I would give her mine without a second thought… even if it was to add only one more second to hers.. she is one wild crazy ass child… but every moment with her is worth whatever it cost… I don’t think the meaning of life is to create life… but I do believe that she has become my purpose in this world…

 

Can’t wait to hear your answer to the question… Even if it is writing… what are you working on?… Until it is my turn again… check out my wares at AmazonThreadless… 

 

Broken Reality

This is something I would only say to my best friend, but since that is you and since you aren’t you anymore. I have to feel. I have to live as though I am alone. I see you every day. Walking by me as if this is all normal. Walking by me like everything is okay. The hardest part wasn’t what happened. Yes, that was a lot of shit to just take in. The hardest part. The thing I can’t say to you or talk about with you. Has everything to do with you and nothing to do with you. It’s why I can only say it to my best friend, someone I trust, and not whatever this is. The hardest part of all of this. Is going from thinking I’m spending the rest of my life with this one person to I hope I never have to see them again. Seeing you every day is a constant reminder of these feelings that won’t go away. Pretending to smile feels like a thousand knives. Lying when you ask what’s wrong feels like another part of me is dying.

None of this matters. All words that can’t be said. That don’t need to be said. All words locked inside my head. Replaying them over and over again.

The ashes they burn
The hell I have created heats up
Something needs to happen
None of the answers are acceptable
The tears as real as the pain
Forever escaping me, not an option
Your opinion on the events
Broken train of thought
Broken life I have to live
Shattered into nothing
Left chewing on what’s left
What is left when all hope is gone?
A long time coming, slow-moving
Slow to act, now left with the damned
The truth will set you free
The truth will leave you in a shallow grave
Life is a waste, built on past mistakes
Far worse than death, a sentence pierced into my head
If only I could think of anything else
Anything beyond the nothingness
So lost that it hurts
When you think this could be the best
When you think this could be the worst
Hold tight, the undertow is only a thing
Until it takes a hold
Drags you deeper and deeper
Open your eyes
Then you can see, clearly, this is all there ever was for you
Pain

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This is going to be a long month… a long lifetime…purging myself of all this shit… figuring out who I am again… rebuilding a broken corpse of a man once again…  been keeping busy… okay… I have been busy staring at a wall… feeling sorry for myself… hopefully, that will all be done soon… in the meantime… prepare for a lot of heartbreak… 

Still, have shirts up on Threadless… didn’t get around to designing any new ones like I had hoped… books still available on Amazon… Until next time… take care… and remember nothing is forever… so enjoy it… whatever it is… while it lasts… 

And Other Things From This Time Preview

Felt No More

I gave up, then gave in
Still, you’re unhappy with what
We’ve become
I gave you everything
Only to end this with nothing
Yet I’m the asshole
What it means to be a man
I’m the one who should wear
The villainous mask because it fits
I’m sorry I guess
For what I don’t know
Maybe by now, I should
But I held on too long to nothing
To really know at this point
Tomorrow is a new day
And I’m sure you will find a way to ruin it for me
Love is nothing more than emotion
I wish I had never felt before

Because No One Said Don’t

I don’t even know why I bother
The answer is clearly already there
If this were a poker game
I’d had lost three hands ago
Even if you don’t count the anti
I’m down about three lifetimes
Can I get your number must be on par
With selling your soul to the devil
Well I guess I’m here to collect
But you don’t seem so sure I even exist
Quietly though I’ll only seem creepier
Over time
Times up and here I sit wondering
What you are up to
Its late so I guess I’ll never know
There’s a sign that says welcome to reality
But I’ve only chosen to be literate at this point
The ants and the bugs seem to think I’m weird too
So it’s not just you or the crowd
Your boyfriend is way stronger than his five foot frame
Would suggest
The laughing feels better with swallowed teeth
In the end, I was lost so you’re welcome
To tell me that all along I was wrong
How was I supposed to know
Your short skirt meant you weren’t single
Appearances are deceiving unless of course
It’s tattooed on your skin
Tomorrows a new day but I think I am just fine right here

Fucking relationships… now before everyone is like I thought you were married… why are you asking for numbers?… Because No One Said Don’t… is partially about a friend from that time… I feel for anyone who is single or searching for someone… I had this friend… great guy… but he was desperate… and you could smell his desperation from around the corner… he would constantly ask how I found my wife… wanted advice on how to find someone… etc… we all know this person or are this person… no need to cut fresh wounds… but the truth for me… is dumb fucking lucky… I’ve been married for eight years and together for fourteen years… not bragging… but all I’ve been trying to do since day one is not fuck this up… has everything been perfect?… fuck no… A Lie wasn’t written through a lovely time in my life… though that book is fiction… we all know there is truth in fiction… 

There are always ups and downs… relationships aren’t based on movies or perfection… shit at times they aren’t even based on love… I love my wife but there are times I hate that lady… that’s the truth… but I would rather walk down a road of razor blades then be without her in my life… Same for my daughter… there are times that she drives me beyond insane… she has tested my patience more than anyone on planet Earth… but every time she skips a breath I feel as though I am seconds from death… 

If I had advice on relationships stop looking for the perfect partner and try looking for the perfect friend… I get human nature we want to fuck… but stop and think can I stand this person when I can’t?… If I couldn’t would I still care?… my wife is sexy as fuck but I’m not in love with her body… I’m in love with her… Relationships are work… that doesn’t mean you have to force anything to make it happen… there isn’t a checklist… a certain path… and remember compromise isn’t settling… never settle… someone is always going to be them and that is them… you accept them or you don’t… and there is nothing wrong with that… we all have friends that we had as children that are strangers now… we all grow… the key is finding someone you can grow with… that and dumb fucking luck… 

I’m not saying that a shirt from Threadless will help you find true love or a friend… but who is to say that it won’t?… At the very least it might get you noticed… Books are available as well over at Amazon… These will not help you find love but they will help pass the time while you look… Remember being you is all that you can do… 

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Is the Doctor In?

I’ve been waiting in this waiting room for what seems like days. It’s almost my turn to be seen and yet it feels like it isn’t. The nurse has already done the pre-exam checkups, all clear. She’s cleaned me up and got me all set, and now I’m waiting for her to call my name. It has been a crazy couple of days and I am glad the doctor could see me on such short notice, but this wait is inhumane. Granite the doctor has had a busy day too. There must have been at least four people seen since I have arrived and another five or six since then. This doctor must be really good to see this many people in one day and many of us on short notice. I wonder how much longer I have to wait though. It’s freezing in here and the music is terrible. That’s how all waiting rooms are though. There’s never anything interesting to watch or read and if there is ever any music it is never good. It’s always some simple piano notes with no lyrics. It couldn’t possibly be anything current or even pleasing to the ears. Not that the music nowadays could be considered good, but anything is better than this. I’d take some golden oldies at this point. Anything but this horrible sound combined with the ticking of the clock. I must be going insane from the sounds. I can’t believe someone was paid to create this torture. If I could move my foot I’d probably tap it to the beat out of boredom, but I can’t which only makes all of this even worse. The other people in the room seem to be as bored as me. I can’t really see what they are doing thanks to the rather dim waiting area. The doctor must be sensitive to light or something. God, I am just full of complaints today. I usually don’t complain this much, but I’m what some people call a mover and a shaker. If I’m not moving I’m either sleeping or dead. I hear the nurse shout next up is Skinner. That’s me Alan Skinner top medical supplies salesman in the district three years running. Last year alone I was the third highest salesman for the whole company. This year I hope to be number one. No, I don’t hope. I will be number one. Always selling is what my wife says. In and out of here I hope. I’ve got things to do and people to sell too. My favorite part of selling is the power of closing the deal and knowing I sold my customers the best products on the market. I enjoyed my job, which is probably a good thing since I have been doing it for twenty years now. When the nurse enters the waiting room to collect me no one moves or says anything.

She comes over to me and starts wheeling me into the exam room. It becomes brighter as she pushes me closer to the room. The exam room is nearly blinding as she pushes me to the center of the room. She pushes me right under the brightest light I have ever seen. Must be from all the time in the dim waiting room, but this room is so bright. Maybe he should turn the light down or I won’t even be able to see his face. He starts the examination right away by taking off my white sheet. His head blocks the light but only for a second or two. He feels around my rib cage. No hello, no how are you doing today Mr. Skinner just right to business. He must be in a hurry, which I don’t mind, but there’s never a reason to be rude. His hands feel very warm on my chest after all that time in the waiting room. When he finally finds what he is looking for he takes his saw off his side table and zips through my chest as if he is pulling a zipper down a jacket. He tries to comfort me by saying, “I hope that didn’t hurt too much.” His words are welcome after that rude excuses for an introduction, but I didn’t feel a thing. He takes out another tool. The extractor or the rib cracker 2000 as we call it at work. Top of the line model none the less. Placing it between the ribs is all he has to do as the tool does the rest. Separating my rib cage with ease. It felt nice to feel air touch my lungs once again. The doctor pokes around the outside of my lungs before cutting each one out. He places each lung gently into the metal tray next to him. He turns his body towards his side table and begins to inspect my lungs by looking all around the outside of them. He cuts into my lungs like they were a nice family meal. He tells the nurse that it looks like he was a smoker, but he must have quit at least ten years ago. Impressive I quit seven years ago for health reasons I try to tell him, but he only ignores me. His bedside manner leaves something to be desired. “Did you feel that?” The doctor asks the nurse. She shakes her head no, He moves on with my exam. He takes a dark mass that I believe is my liver. Placing it on his table he cuts pieces of it out. Checking each section as he does. “Not much damage to his liver. He was a light drinker if at all,” the doctor says. Each thing he says the nurse takes notes on her clipboard. The doctor continues, “His Kidneys look good for his age, no ulcers in his stomach lining, but there appears to be some sort of obstruction inside his esophagus.” The doctor cuts open the esophagus, “A piece of baked chicken. He died of  after the chicken got stuck in his trachea.” “How sad,” the nurse shakes her head in disbelief, “It’s so sad there are so many people out there that don’t know the Heimlich maneuver. What about his heart doctor?” “Wouldn’t hurt to look, but I’m positive he died from asphyxiation.” The doctor takes my heart from my chest. A bloody fist of an organ and places it in a fresh metal tray on his side table. After dissecting the bloody red mass he says, “The left and right ventricles along with his right atrium look fine enough given his age and weight. The left atrium, however, looks to have taken a lot of damage over the years.” The nurse continues her notes. “What does it mean doctor?” I ask, but the words seem to fall on deaf ears. “Is there anything in his pre-exam report about him complaining of chest pains just before collapsing?” The doctor asks. “No there’s nothing about that,” the nurse answers. “Well, I’m going to stick with my original assessment that he died from affixation. Given the evidence, I can’t tell if he had a mild heart attack because of the stress of choking or the other way around. Either way, this man would have died tonight. “I’m right here,” I try to say. “How can I be dead if I am right here,” I scream. The doctor’s words sink in as I try to get up off the gurney to no avail.  My body begins to heat up. I feel as if I have been set on fire. The confusion sets in deeper. I can’t be getting cremated. I didn’t ask for this. It’s not making any sense. I try to close my eyes, but I can’t. My vision starts to blur from the fiery pain that is consuming my body. “I wonder what set this whole incident in motion,” I can hear the doctor say what feels like miles away. Then just as quick as it came the pain washes away. I was no longer lying but rather floating next to the doctor. He looks right through me as he talks, “Who’s next?” The nurse puts my clipboard down and picks up another, “A Jonathan Murdock, self-inflicted gunshot to the head. There seems to be a lot of those lately.” Like a hangover the pain and the memories of my death come flooding back in to what can only be described as my “mind,” as I am neither here nor there anymore. I try to scream again more to see if I can than anything else. I find that I can’t once again. “Did you feel that? That cold chill feeling I felt from before. I just felt it again,” the doctor tells the nurse. The memories get clearer as I reach the door. I reach to push the door forward, but my hand goes right through it. Old habits die hard I guess. The nurse says, “I did feel something just now.” “This place can really,” I miss the last part of what he was about to say as I walk through the door. The memories won’t leave my mind. My life flashes in bits and pieces like a migraine that has no cure. Frustration and anger settle in with the confusion and yet I feel nothing at all. Passing through each building, each sign, and each person as I make my way in a straight line. Images of my children smiling, my friends cheering me on in grade school, my mother crying as I get married, and her. My wife’s face comes and goes with each happy image. Then it is as though it has been clear all along. I don’t know where I am, but I know where I am going, home. I remember the sequence of events that led to my sudden death, and it is as though I know nothing else. I want my revenge.

I was having lunch with my boss. We were discussing my future at the company. He offered me a raise and a promotion. If I was to take it I would have been, I could have been a regional manager of another branch. The meeting was going well and I remember things. Jokes, smiles, laughing, having a good time, and there she was sitting across from us at the restaurant. My wife wasn’t at home, but sitting at the restaurant having lunch with someone I didn’t know. Someone I couldn’t see. All I saw was their hair, his hair. I followed her arm with my eyes. In her hand, she was holding his. Everything began to move in slow motion. The streets are busy even this late at night. People walking through me as if I’, not there, and I’m not. I’ve stopped looking both ways as I cross the street. A sense of freedom I have never felt. I have no fear anymore. My thoughts slip back to my death. I can’t see the man clearly and honestly I don’t remember looking. Transfixed on my wife and her actions that day. Holding his hand, leaning in for a kiss, and her smile. God that smile, a smile I hadn’t seen in years. Has it really been that long since I have seen her smile like that? The rushing anger, the sudden jealousy, the slow creeping numbness of my left arm as I stand up. I try to ignore the obvious, I try to say something, but my heart would not have it. My chest tightens as I look down to my boss and I try once again to say something. With all that was happening, I had forgotten about the grilled chicken with lemon zest still in my mouth as I inhaled. The comedy of errors only grew as no one around me knew what was happening. Holding my chest and unable to breathe my vision begins to fade, my mind screaming breathe damn, and the impending feeling of doom as I fall to the floor. I hear voices in the darkness, distant, unclear. The darkness doesn’t last long. I’m still on the restaurant floor, but now I’m being rolled out on a stretcher. “Am I okay?” I remember asking, but no one answers as the white sheet drapes over my face. How am I seeing this? This must be a joke I think. It has to be. I feel them loading me into the ambulance. The feel of the engine as the vehicle is shifted into gear. There were no sirens, there was no rush to the wheels, so I must be fine I remember thinking. I’m only going for a follow-up, a checkup.

Outside on the streets and away from my head, I float in the direction I believe is home. Each person I pass has no idea how close to death they really are. I try to focus on something else besides my anger, but I can’t seem to let go of the pain. Passing by my neighbor’s homes with their manicured lawns and false pretense perfect lives all I feel is pain. I arrive at my home. The one that I paid for with my soul for her, for my family. All she has to do is read the will. There is a car I don’t recognize in my driveway. How long have I been dead? A day? Maybe two? Didn’t take her long to move me out and move him in. I pass my stuff sitting out with the trash. Memories I once had, but no longer need. Either it must be trash night or my kids don’t care as much as her. Passing through my red front door I can see the dining room from the hall. All those greasy dinners come back to my mind except now they seem more like plots to kill me than anything else. Who lets another person eat their weight in beef every night while they eat a salad? I float up my stairs to the second floor. Not even halfway up the stairs, I can hear her moans. Moans she hasn’t made for me in what seems like forever or if ever. I pass through my daughter’s door first only to be greeted by emptiness. I pass through her wall into my son’s room only to find the same. She must have sent our perfect children to her mother’s so she could “grieve.” Her moans pierce through the walls of the second floor. Leaving my son’s room and going into our private bath I make my way closer. A used condom lies on the floor next to the trash can. I storm into my master bedroom the emotion last in the circumstance. My wife begging for more. “Harder, harder,” she moans. I want to scream again. I want to tear her face off with the sound of my voice. I want to destroy her like she destroyed me. “Whore,” I scream with everything that I have and everything I am not. My words drown out her moaning and begging. My scream comes with a chill so cold I can see their breath. The man stops mid thrust, “What the hell was that?” They both turn to look at my direction. A blank stare comes across their faces. Again I scream breaking the silence. The look of horror and shame on their faces is indescribable, but it makes me feel warm inside. “It’s my husband,” she screams. “That’s right your husband you whore,” I scream with another wave of cold air. Somehow they can now see me, but only for a second. The man slips out of my wife as he falls to the floor. My wife stares at me from all fours a condom dangling from her poisonous cunt. “Something that obviously doesn’t mean anything to you,” I continue. My former self-flashing in and out of existence. My wife tries to cover herself up as if a stranger has walked into the room. The man begins to weep, “Sorry, I’m so sorry man.” “You don’t even know the meaning of sorry yet,” I scream. “Get the hell out of my house.” He runs naked to the bedroom door and out down the stairs. I don’t hear the front door slam and I don’t much care. I turn my face to my darling wife, “And as for you. There won’t be much left of you to even be sorry.” The bedroom door slams from the strength of my words and her screams fill the evening air. Maybe being dead won’t be such a bad thing after all.

 

Fuck the Lemonade and Chewing on Glass present: Lemonade and Glass

This collaboration is a bit unusual… well not really the project itself but the conception?… one night,  Lemons and I were suggesting songs back and forth for several hours… spur of the moment… no real order… no massive amount of thought… and then it came to me… was there any thought to our selections?… did we have our reasons for choosing that song at that exact moment?… pretty basic idea… some of the best always are… we shall see…

With this first month, we decided to pick ten songs each and kind of figure out what this is as a whole… being on different sides of the earth and of different brains, we are doing our best to make this equally our own… a blending of styles and thoughts… a trip beyond the song… a personal level buried underneath the music… each song means something different to someone else… that is what I wanted to explore with this project…

This night, which Mr. Glass mentions, was a great night. Lol. Mr. Glass was my glue that night and I am super grateful, not just for the time spent with a friend while I was in a shitty place but because something positive has now been birthed from it…

As we have found out, we have a lot of similarities not just with our love of ellipses… but also music. And even though we have similar music tastes there is a lot of bands and songs that neither of us has heard that we have now been introduced to… which is awesome! Any growth to our playlists is excellent.

We have also learned that, as we both like some “sexy” songs, neither of us enjoys listening to them together. #laughingemoji So, if you are here hoping for us to be “bringing sexy back,” you may want to bail now cause that is not what we are here for Ward Clever (aka Mr. Clever… if you’re nasty) and Mel (Melons… if you know what is good for you)

Let’s get this show on the road, Mr. Glass…

Totally forgot… this is all on Spotify… under Lemonade and Glass…  apparently, I can’t copy the link… so you will have to do it old school… on the Spotify app… all apologies… 

5-3-10-4 by Alkaline Trio (Glass)

I actually had three different songs circled in my mind for my Alkaline Trio pick… I knew I was going to pick one from them… which became this long listening fest of which one?… Steamer Trunk is my favorite song by them and I also love My Little Needle as well… Then I played this one and I felt that this track best describes my views on work… a common theme in my writing and my life… this line  “I’m so thankful that I’m not one of them,”… really hits home with me… Before I started working so early… I used to think well I’m glad I don’t do that… Then I did… and still, I think well I’m glad I’m not so and so having to do so and so… because there is always this idea that things could be worse… even when they are already at their limits… again see my writing for any more explanation… haha…

 

Fallen Leaves by Billy Talent (Lemons)

I’m not a huge fan of Billy Talent. Actually, to be honest, I couldn’t name any of their other songs… I’ve tried listening to them. They just don’t do it for me. But this song… there is just something about this one… It was one of those songs I fell in love with the moment I heard that beginning riff. And then, my brain said, “play this over and over and over again until you hate music.”

I also picked up the lyrics way before I stopped to think about the sad tale they weave. I have a complicated relationship with song lyrics…

My fav part to scream in the car (my car scream part) would be “I never once thought, I’d ever be caught! Staring at sidewalks, hiding my track marks! I left my best friends, or did they just leave me?” then it breaks back into that first riff… *enters bliss*

It has a vocal quality that reminds me of old school punk bands for some reason which I love trying to mimic.

A lit of the reasons I fall madly and deeply for a song boils down to the singing… the way the words and accents and notes feel on my tongue… in my throat…

This is one of those songs for me… It feels good to sing. And that is why I picked this one.

Go! by Killer Mike (Glass)

I was never big into rap when I was growing up… not because I thought it was bad… more to do with that it was popular… and also at this time when I was growing up rap had become basically a joke of itself… a parody… had I dug in deeper than the surface at that time I could have found things to like, but that wasn’t what rap really was at that time… it was all about hoes and bitches and exploitation of women… of a culture really… so I never got into it… enough to say I liked it… Always exceptions… Outkast has been a favorite of mine since I heard B.O.B…. but as a whole, I wasn’t a fan… Fast forward a decade later… I’m watching Bill Maher and here sits this guy… Huge… big bear of a person…. Wearing a t-shirt… if you haven’t seen Bill Maher’s show… he often has all kinds of people on his show and they are always dressed up… Killer Mike was like Nah fuck that… I’m going to be me… That had me right there… he expresses his views… and the whole time I am shouting at the TV… “Thank You”… something I normally do while watching that show is shout at the TV… a habit that my daughter has also started… by the end of the show… as Bill goes into the last word or whatever… the end segment is called… All I wanted was more Killer Mike… Who is he… they said he was a rapper… etc… google searched his ass like a broken-hearted stalker… I, of course, ran into Run the Jewels first… I could choose so many of their songs for a playlist but I wanted to spotlight what I think is the best part of that duo… Killer Mike… a genius in my opinion… a masterful poet… just an overall great mind of this generation… I don’t get in awe of a lot of people… celebrity type… I get it… they are people, but if I ever met Killer Mike… I might giggle like a school girl… and I think that is because he is not a celebrity… rather just an amazing person… favorite line in this song… “Got AK wordplay might put a pause on your life…. Just like a comma bitch”… I’m a real big fan of commas….

Mr. Brightside by The Killers (Lemons)

Oh man… this song kills me every time.

I love The Killers. This will probs not be the last time they show up in L&G (sorry, Laynes!)

It is such a story song. Jealousy is not an affliction I have suffered from (because I trust WAY too easily) so I tend to place myself more with the female of the story (not that I am a cheater either but, for some reason, cheating is not what my brain hears when I listen to this song)

It is so sensual. I know… I know I said no sexy but this song is not straight up in your face sexy… I think… is it… lol no it’s just me.

“It was only a kiss” and then repeated over and over again. You can feel the pain, this mister is really trying to convince himself… And makes me feel the feelings.

I’m of the mind that, even though lyrics are written and the artist who wrote them had something in mind when writing said lyrics, that song… those lyrics can mean something different to the listener.

That being said… it is actually obvious what this song is about, but my brain says different.

Car scream for this song is basically all of it, but definitely the ending.

I picked this one because I wanted something slightly pop-ish in here. Not that I see The Killers as pop, but they are a little more mainstream… aren’t they?

Jealousy is a terrible thing and it can destroy relationships. Also, it can just be your spidey senses tingling… Now, I’m just rambling… Next!

Taste In Men by Placebo (Glass)

Do you hear the fucking bass line?.. the bass and drum combo?… not sure I need any more reason to love this song… maybe the interesting lyrics… which growing up were very odd… growing up in an environment where people weren’t allowed to be themselves… especially gay… this song was very rebellious… felt almost dirty to listen to at the time… to blast in the car and drive around listening too… One of the things that I love about Placebo is their double meaning lyrics… or themes… this song is could easily be about a woman… or a man… great track… and the bass line… the drums… so good…

Mandy Goes To Med School by The Dresden Dolls (Lemons)

This song makes me click and strut every time it comes on. I turn into this swinging cabaret dancer in my fucking car, I love it.

I love The Dresden Dolls and I love, love, love Amanda “Fucking” Palmer. I have posted about her and her songs before.(Here) But this song just makes me dance.

The lyrics are… well… Let’s just say, intake this journey with Mr. Glass, I have realized that I have a difficult time in deciphering the meaning of lyrics, but that is part of the point. It is about the personal connection to the song.

This is another “upbeat melody/dark AF meaning” sort of songs. There are lots of hints towards abortion in here, and not just abortion but the dodgy “backyard” abortions which used to be a problem. (I say “used to” because I live in Australia, in a place where abortion is an easy thing to organize and it is even relatively cheap and the most you deal with is normally just one random crazy lady standing out the front screaming at you… I realize this makes me sound like I have had a tonne of abortions, but really I have always been that friend who everyone seems to want to take as support to their abortions… which makes sense… Cause I am a fucking nice person.)

I would make an educated guess that AFP is totes pro-choice so it wouldn’t shock me if I am correct here. With lyrics like “I’ve been feeling dull as a coat hanger” and “Put away those pliers, honey. Trust me ’cause I know the options. How about a nine-month-long vacation. And a two-foot coffin” … it gets dark…

So, despite (or because of) the dark depths of this song, it goes on the playlist. Car scream is probs the lyrics up there…

That was only 6 out of 20 songs… I think we might have bitten off more than we can chew… haha… Look out for more posts this month… that pertain to this subject… As the project goes we hope to get to fifty total songs on the playlist… If you have Spotify you can listen to the playlist as we add more songs throughout the month and the coming months… Lemonade and Glass… 

Let us know what you think… What are your favorite songs and why?… hope you enjoyed this… 

A Lie Preview

Classes Start

It’s ten a.m. and I’m nearly a hundred percent certain that I am in the wrong class room, but I have no plans of leaving. The teacher, a young woman who is probably a few years older than me with rather large breasts, passes out the syllabus to the class. A two to three page document detailing everything we are supposed to go over in the course of the semester. Fucking gag me, the syllabus is more or less an excuse to mow down a few more acres of trees in South America. Considering our teachers will flood our emails with the same shit anyway. I’m sitting in the far corner of the room, far away from everyone else. The teacher goes into a speech about showing up late, her breasts bouncing with each word. Is she even wearing a bra? I find myself more entertained with her bust line than trying to figure out where I even am. Her words bleed together and I can’t tell if it is me or her who is not making sense of the words. It takes a moment but I finally look down at the syllabus to figure where I am. The paper says that I am in public speaking and I can start to feel the blood drain from my face. Things only get worse when I start to realize that each student is standing up and telling everyone in the class their name and a little bit about themselves and why they are in college. Most of the students here are going for degrees in criminal justice or something as stupid as that. I can feel my heart rate go up and I begin to wonder if anyone else can hear the pounding of my heart like I can. It sounds like an Edgar Allen Poe story in here. Am I fucking dying or am I losing my mind? I hate speaking in front of a single person and speaking in front of all thirty people in the class is making me feel like I am having a heart attack. I can feel the sweat bead up at the top of my head and drip down my face. I was not prepared for this nor would I ever sign up for this. I calm my shaking hand long enough to grab my backpack and slowly make my way to the exit in a near crawl. How this isn’t any worse than just standing up and saying my name is beyond me. The latest victim stops speaking as the teacher asks me where I am going. I stand up from my crouched position and give her a blank stare before running out of the room. My heart is racing a mile a minute as I wander the halls for what seems like days. Everything feels as though it is in slow motion but I keep trekking on. Wandering the halls isn’t an unusual thing for me. I do it a lot. Despite the fact that I hate this school I just can’t seem to leave. I’m never in class, but I’m never not at the school on school days. As confusing as that sounds I think it is because I feel guilty for not attending classes and it also has to do with the fact that I can’t afford to put more gas in my car. So, I might as well stay here and make the best of it. It doesn’t hurt that my drug dealer takes a lot of classes here as well. He says it helps him expand his mind. “Always got to be smart for the streets man, always.” When really he is just going to the school to expand his business, which has worked out pretty well for him in my opinion. It is here in a class for retards that I first met him. The class in question was a basic English course that all students have to take if they didn’t score a certain amount of points on the assessment test to get into this prestigious college. It can’t be over stated that I never wanted to go here so the idea of even trying wasn’t an option when I took the test. I just breezed through the test selecting any answer without reading the question. I was hoping that maybe they would deny me, but nope they accepted me with cash symbols in their eyes since my whole first term wasn’t worth a single credit. I decided today that I will walk around the campus. No use going through another embarrassing first day. The first day doesn’t count anyway. I stop by the bathroom on the first floor before heading outside in the cold. The ground looks much more interesting when I’m high on drugs. The school uses a special kind of salt that is blue-green in color and it does a really good job of clearing off the sidewalks. In the center of campus there is a pond that has long been frozen over. I walk across the wooden bridge that goes across the narrow part of the pond connecting one side of the campus to the other side. In the summer this is where I like to stand, but in the winter the wind comes across the pond and hits me like a cold hard slap to the face. I’m starting to really feel the trip as I walk past the library and head for the main building. I’m making my way to the cafeteria to purchase the overly priced food I really can’t afford and steal one of the overly priced energy drinks. I usually don’t steal things, but I’m not paying three fucking dollars for something I could get for a lot less someplace else. Plus, what’s the worst they could do to me? Kick me out of school? I walk into the cafeteria from the side door of the building. This door is on the opposite side of the student union, a place I try to avoid at all costs. I can’t stand this school and I can’t stand the students that go here even more. Most of them are so pretentious it makes me sick. Half the time I get trapped in some stupid conversation with one of them, and all I want to do is scream, “Look the fuck around.” They all like to live in some fantasy world that they are learning or attending some place that is giving them a higher education and we are not. I get nauseous thinking of the conversations I could get trapped into, but it is probably only the food.  The cafeteria is nearly empty, there must still be classes going on. I walk up to the cooler and pretend to get a drink, but really I just slip one of the energy drinks on the lower shelf into my jacket pocket. No idea what I grabbed but it is that simple, and free and simple is the name of the game. Today’s menu is beef stroganoff prepared by the master chefs the school hires. The smell from the food is close to that of a bowel movement. I never get the prepared meal so I decided on a cheeseburger that I am pretty sure is made of ten percent rubber. This is more of an impulse buy than a decision after the glorified lunch lady asks me if I was going to get anything or just sit there staring at the food. Don’t get me wrong I like being high but it has its negative effects too, such as time and how much of it is not perceived by my mind. After dropping three dollars and fifty cents on a cheese burger even the shittiest fast food place wouldn’t sell, I head back outside and walk to the Art and Science building to eat. Once inside I pound the energy drink down as fast as I can, hoping that the shit tasting cocktail and the drugs will keep me awake long enough to get through the next class. If I decide to even go to that one. My eyes feel like anvils as I eat the only food I will probably have today. A nasty side effect of the drugs is that I don’t eat and in the last couple of months I have lost over twenty pounds. I have always been a little bit heavy set so losing twenty or more pounds really isn’t as drastic as it sounds. Since I can’t afford new clothes no one has really noticed either way, but for once in my life I’m starting to think that I look better than ever. Maybe I will get my own commercial on TV from all the weight I’m losing like that fat fuck did from that restaurant chain or those fat bitches from the eighties. Then again I will probably die and everyone will forget about me. Good lunch, now I’m all set for more drugs. It is best to not have a full stomach or an empty one, this rule stands more tested before bed as the odds of dying in your sleep on your own vomit increase with such activity. I randomly use nearly every bathroom on campus on any given day, I even use the women’s room in the main building once because the men’s was to full. I use the bathroom on the second floor before checking to see what my next class is. Despite my best efforts I am ten minutes late for class, but it is the first day so no one notices. I take my usual place in the back of the room. The teacher, this time a man, passes out the same piece of paper I’m pretty sure I already have detailing what we will be doing in class this semester. It takes me a minute to actually realize that I have in fact seen this paper because I have already taken this class. Maybe it will be easier the second time around, who gives a fuck. I’m starting to feel even more tired now that I know it doesn’t matter.

My drug abuse doesn’t allow me to sleep as often as I would like. My depression and my drugs have very different ideas on the topic, but when I do sleep I dream of many things. I dream that I am a woman in a minivan and I’m emptying a shopping bag onto the passenger seat so I can place it over the head of one of the crying children behind me. I scream things as I hold it there. The words don’t make sense but given the context what would it really matter any way. I dream that I am chasing a school bus in a place that I once lived. The sky is blood red and all I can hear, all I can see is the children laughing before vomiting gallons of blood out the window of the moving bus. The blood washes over me as I run with everything I have. I never reach the bus and it never stops. Wave after wave till finally I give up. I dream of her, touching her, feeling her, fucking her. I roll over after coming and fall off the bed into nothing. I can’t move as I fall and I try to reach for the bed that has long since disappeared in to the darkness. I just keep falling and falling with no end. Farther and farther, and I never stop falling, never stop feeling confused until I wake up. I dream in blood and I dream in liquids. I dream so many things that sometimes it is hard to figure out what has been a dream and what has been reality. I often wake up confused to where I am or if I am even alive anymore. I imagine myself standing in the middle of Times Square with a gun to my head screaming, begging for someone to help, but no one stops to help me. I imagine that I pull the trigger and I can feel the bullet digging into my skull in slow motion so, I can feel every bit of pain as it rips through my head and exits the other side. I snap out of my state and realize that I am now sitting in an empty class room. I wonder if I am awake or am I still dreaming. There is a note that sits in front of me. It is from my teacher, “Maybe next time you can try to make it more than ten minutes before falling asleep.”

I stop by the bathroom one more time before going outside to smoke. I decide to blow the rest of the day off and return to my tomb. I get into my car and I sit there. I can still feel the bullet hole in my head. It is twenty degrees outside, but I don’t turn on the car. I don’t do anything. I just sit there. I sit in my car until I can no longer feel my toes from the cold. I sit there and I feel nothing. I sit here and think of nothing. I take another hit and begin my trip back home.

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