Journal: By X -------------------------------------------Mood: In Love WHITE GIRL she's blonde she came along the sidewalk leave a trail of blue and black up to you fighting back steel chains a noose of charms on our necks i find nothing when we talk and sit blue heart passion and watch the set easy to fall part of your skull starts to break away a cheaters walk down the block behind this evil street she's a white girl i'm living with a white girl nineteen missing her man for an old girl drain every beer left over at home and listen to ghosts in the other room why not you're alone inside his keeping i'll replace your drunk old man sit in the parking lot and hold your hand easy to fall part of your skull starts to break away drugged and in love out at a club pulling me outside ...Created 2005-06-22 15:22:58

Journal: by liz phair -------------------------------------------Mood: In Love You go on ahead, honey You have a good time there You make me feel funny I'm no ordinary lover or friend I believe we have things to do I believe in myself and I believe in you I believe when I sleep you are near to me I believe when you sleep I am near to you You walk out of the room with your hands so deep in your pockets, I don't Recognize you You say you're a ghost in our house and I realize I do think I see through you It's a death in our love that has brought us here It's a birth that has changed our lives It's a place that I hope we'll be leaving soon And I fear for the year in his eyes And it goes around in circles: one night is lovely, the next is brutal And you and I are in way over our heads with this one, it's hard To admit it, but you hold me and I can't feel you We hurt but we smile I promise I'll make it back when the summer has warmed me awhile ...Created 2005-06-20 22:47:07

Journal: by primus -------------------------------------------Mood: Relaxing "I remember as if it were a meal ago" Said Tommy the Cat as he reeled back to clear whatever foreign matter may have nestled its way into his mighty throat. Many a fat alley rat had met its demise while staring point blank down the cavernous barrel of this awesome prowling machine. Truly a wonder of nature this urban predator. Tommy the cat had many a story to tell, but it was a rare occasion such as this that he did. "She came slidin' down the alleyway like butter drippin' off a hot biscuit. The aroma, the mean scent, was enough to arouse suspicion in even the oldest of Tigers that hung around the hot spot in those days. The sight was beyond belief. Many a head snapped for double, even triple, takes as this vivacious feline made her her way into the delta of the alleyway where the most virile of the young tabbys were known to hang out. They hung in droves. Such a multitude of masculinity could only be found in one place... and that was O'malley's Alley. The air was thick with cat calls (no pun intended) but not even a muscle in her neck did twitch as she sauntered up into the heart of the alley. She knew what she wanted. She was lookin' for that stud bull, the he cat. And that was me. Tommy the Cat is my name and I say unto thee... Say baby do you wanna lay down by me" ...Created 2005-06-09 18:02:04

Journal: by nick cave -------------------------------------------Mood: Lonely O'Malley's Bar I am tall and I am thin Of an enviable hight And I've been known to be quite handsome In a certain angle and in certain light Well I entered into O'Malley's Said, "O'Malley I have a thirst" O'Malley merely smiled at me Said "You wouldn't be the first" I knocked on the bar and pointed To a bottle on the shelf And as O'Malley poured me out a drink I sniffed and crossed myself My hand decided that the time was nigh And for a moment it slipped from view And when it returned, it fairly burned With confidence anew Well the thunder from my steely fist Made all the glasses jangle When I shot him, I was so handsome It was the light, it was the angle Huh! Hmmmmmm "Neighbours!" I cried, "Friends!" I screamed I banged my fist upon the bar "I bear no grudge against you!" And my dick felt long and hard "I am the man for which no God waits But for which the whole world yearns I'm marked by darkness and by blood And one thousand powder-burns" Well, you know those fish with the swollen lips That clean the ocean floor When I looked at poor O'Malley's wife That's exactly what I saw I jammed the barrel under her chin And her face looked raw and vicious Her head it landed in the sink With all the dirty dishes Her little daughter Siobhan Pulled beers from dusk till down And amongst the townfolk she was a bit of a joke But she pulled the best beer in town I swooped magnificent upon her As she sat shivering in her grief Like the Madonna painted on the church-house wall In whale's blood and banana leaf Her throat it crumbled in my fist And I spun heroically around To see Caffrey rising from his seat I shot that mother fucker down Mmmmmmmmmm Yeah Yeah Yeah "I have no free will", I sang As I flew about the murder Mrs. Richard Holmes, she screamed You really should have heard her I sang and I laughed, I howled and I wept I panted like a pup I blew a hole in Mrs. Richard Holmes And her husband stupidly stood up As he screamed, "You are an evil man" And I paused a while to wonder "If I have no free will then how can I Be morally culpable, I wonder" I shot Richard Holmes in the stomach And gingerly he sat down And he whispered weirdly, "No offense" And then lay upon the ground "None taken", I replied to him To which he gave a little cough With blazing wings I neatly aimed And blew his head completely off I've lived in this town for thirty years And to no-one I am a stranger And I put new bullets in my gun Chamber upon chamber And I turned my gun on the bird-like Mr. Brookes I thought of Saint Francis and his sparrows And as I shot down the youthful Richardson It was St. Sebastian I thought of, and his arrows Hhhhhhhhhh Mmmmmmmmmmmm I said, "I want to introduce myself And I am glad that all you came" And I leapt upon the bar And shouted out my name Well Jerry Bellows, he hugged his stool Closed his eyes and shrugged and laughed And with an ashtray as big as a fucking really big brick I split his head in half His blood spilled across the bar Like a steaming scarlet brook And I knelt at it's edge on the counter Wiped the tears away and looked Well, the light in there was blinding Full of God and ghosts of truth I smiled at Henry Davenport Who made an attempt to move Well, from the position I was standing The strangest thing I ever saw The bullet entered through the top of his chest And blew his bowels out on the floor Well I floated down the counter Showing no remorse I shot a hole in Kathleen Carpenter Recently divorced But remorse i felt and remorse I had It clung to every thing From the raven's hair upon my head To the feathers on my wings Remorse sqeezed my hand in it's fradulent claw With it's golden hairless chest And I glided through the bodies And killed the fat man Vincent West Who sat quietly in his chair A man become a child And I raised the gun up to his head Executioner-style He made no attempt to resist So fat and dull and lazy "Did you know I lived in your street?" I said And he looked at me as though I were crazy "O", he said, "I had no idea" And he grew as quiet as a mouse And the roar of the pistol when it went off Near blew that hat right off the house Hmmmmmm Uh Uh Well, I caught my eye in the mirror And gave it a long and loving inspection "There stands some kind of man", I roared And there did, in the reflection My hair combed back like a raven's wing My muscles hard and tight And curling from the business end of my gun Was a query-mark of cordite Well I spun to the left, I spun to the right And I spun to the left again "Fear me! Fear me! Fear me!" But no one did cause they were dead Huh! Hmmmmmmmmm And then there were the police sirens wailing And a bull-horn squelched and blared "Drop your weapons and come out With your hands held in the air" Well, I checked the chamber of my gun Saw I had one final bullet left My hand, it looked almost human As I raised it to my head "Drop your weapon and come out! Keep your hands above your head!" I had one one long hard think about dying And did exactly what they said There must have been fifty cops out there In a circle around O'Malley's bar "Don't shoot", I cried, "I'm a man unarmed!" So they put me in their car And they sped me away from that terrible scene And I glanced out of the window Saw O'Malley's bar, saw the cops and the cars And I started counting on my fingers Aaaaaah One Aaaaaah Two Aaaaaah Three Aaaaaaah Four O'Malley's bar O'Malley's bar ...Created 2005-06-06 23:42:31

Journal: by iggy pop -------------------------------------------Mood: Head Aching The Passenger I am the passenger and I ride and I ride I ride through the city's backsides I see the stars come out of the sky Yeah, the bright and hollow sky You know it looks so good tonight I am the passenger I stay under glass I look through my window so bright I see the stars come out tonight I see the bright and hollow sky Over the city's ripped backsides And everything looks good tonight Singing la la la la la.. lala la la, la la la la.. lala la la etc Get into the car We'll be the passenger We'll ride through the city tonight We'll see the city's ripped backsides We'll see the bright and hollow sky We'll see the stars that shine so bright Stars made for us tonight Oh, the passenger How, how he rides Oh, the passenger He rides and he rides He looks through his window What does he see? He sees the sign and hollow sky He sees the stars come out tonight He sees the city's ripped backsides He sees the winding ocean drive And everything was made for you and me All of it was made for you and me 'Cause it just belongs to you and me So let's take a ride and see what's mine Singing la la la la.. lala la la [x3] Oh the passenger He rides and he rides He sees things from under glass He looks through his window side He sees the things that he knows are his He sees the bright and hollow sky He sees the city sleep at night He sees the stars are out tonight And all of it is yours and mine And all of it is yours and mine So let's ride and ride and ride and ride Oh, oh, Singing la la la la lalalala ...Created 2005-04-10 20:54:31

Journal: milo stikesback -------------------------------------------Mood: The Usual hay baby want you lie down by my side? hay baby want you lie down by me? ...Created 2005-03-23 10:39:15

Journal: on the flipside -------------------------------------------Mood: Thinking... well i'm leaving...i don't know never been to great with good byes...some of you liked my stuff and some of you didn't but it's all the same. this isn't the end of my writing carree this is just me leaving i am still a writer and always will be like i said i'm no good with good bye..but who is? so on the flipside ...Created 2004-11-03 22:19:01

Journal: candian vodak -------------------------------------------Mood: Thinking... man it's been to long... ...Created 2004-11-03 19:06:57

Journal: Secretly timid -------------------------------------------Mood: Thinking... The best explanation for what Liz Phair means to me came from my most recent heart brake. We where sitting and talking about Bob Dylan, and she said (I remember this quite vividly despite the lapse in time) "Bob Dylan is to me what Liz Phair is too you." That stuck with me, I mean look at me months later I still remember it enough to write about it. I remember it because Liz Phair played such a huge role in that relationship, and weather Molly knew this or not she did know that Liz Phair was a huge part of my life. It's hard to explain because so much of her music has a special significance to me, when I was in the seventh grade I could get to sleep with out hearing side B of whip smart, in the ninth grade I realized that I was a hopeless romantic and in reference to the song a "boyfriend" while listing to fuck and run in the shower. Most recently (in the tenth grade) I came to the conclusion that Liz Phair is in fact more notable in my mind then Ray Bradbury or Jesse Bernstein. So when did this fixation start? In the seventh grade when Liz Phair became my cure for insomnia? As far as I can figure it was in the summer of my eighth grade year when my brother was institutionalized. I saw Liz put out a new album and bought it using gift cards and borrowed money. I went to Fred Myer with designs to buy her new album and a Pixes album, I choose Liz Phair instead of the Pixes for the sole reason that I thought her cover art was more impressive. "Liz Phair" self titled was a constant for the rest of that summer. Everything that happened, good or bad, had Liz as a soundtrack either in my head or on the stereo. It was in this time that she cultivated in my mind, became more than just a artist but also a peer. This isn't real, well it is all this happened but this is just me working out thought one day I will re write this…but for now this is what I've got. Tuesday, November 02, 2004 9:01:51 PM ...Created 2004-11-02 23:03:39

Journal: dead dog -------------------------------------------Mood: Head Aching i'm not the kind of poet that will write about a tree, that is just so fucking beautiful, i not that kind of poet but i don't know what kind of poet i am... i just took a shower my first in days, i washed away the stink of women and seman, than i eat a pineapple which my mother purcured in a place fifty states away god i'm tired ...Created 2004-10-30 15:53:45

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