Holland, 1945

This song has been relevant too much in the past 24 hours.

Says it was good to be alive
But now he rides a comet’s flame
And won’t be coming back again
The Earth looks better from a star
That’s right above from where you are
He didn’t mean to make you cry
With sparks that ring and bullets fly
On empty rings around your heart
The world just screams and falls apart

A girl I know well (ex/close friend/faraway person that I love, does it really matter?) is being remarkable, as usual. Her father died and I never really met him but I firmly believe that it isn’t fair, to him, to her, to that family, to anybody, really. But she is amazing and when I called to make sure she was all right, she really was. She seemed almost happy when she talked about a postcard from the time when we loved each other with such frantic romantic desperation, a time when she took such good care of crazy little me, when we wasted probably large sums of money on lengthy long-distance calls, a time with long, lovely end-of-summer days, a time before school got old, a time when her father was still there with her? maybe that is part of why. happy days. Anyways, that’s the past, but even in the present, she is being crazy resilient and strong and acting fearless and I admire her and send lots of love her way.

But now we must pick up every piece
Of the life we used to love
Just to keep ourselves
At least enough to carry on.

*

And here’s where your mother sleeps
…
And it’s so sad to see the world agree
That they’d rather see their faces fill with flies
All when I’d want to keep white roses in their eyes

It’s my mother’s birthday, and I spent the whole day being, by turns, snarky, snappy, sullen, silent, tearful, and maybe once a little seductive (as a social experiment, I assure you). I didn’t get her a present and I kept bursting into tears.

…now we ride the circus wheel…

*

The only girl I’ve ever loved
Was born with roses in her eyes
But then they buried her alive

A girl I love in complicated, hateful, painful, silly, idealistic ways keeps sticking knives in me and I don’t know why. I’d like to throw away the loving-her part, and just hate her for the hurting me she’s done, but I can’t do that for a plethora of reasons. I’d like to theorize that it’s about her and not me (that’s sort of what The Shrink says) but it’s difficult to be insulted and just reject the words. I know I looked good, and not ridiculous; I know I am just crazy and manipulative, and not a whore per se; I know that other people are causing me some difficulties, and it isn’t all my fault that I’m in a bad mood; I know I am not just a ridiculous/cute tool/child/whore/geek; I know I am in fact living my own life, and not hers. But sometimes I want to slap her and tell her to go to hell. Only I think if I slapped her, she’d just gasp and smile.

…empty rings around the sun
All sing to say my dream has come.