Modest Mouse. That song. “And we were dumb dumb dumber than the dirt dirt dirt on the ground.” Check.
Details are neither necessary nor advisable at this point. A self destructive streak can never be unpainted from the soul. Once placed, it remains at the core of one’s existence, manifesting in various forms. Sometimes it’s the “I can’t stop loving that man, even if he tromps my heart a million times” and sometimes it’s the “I can’t stop tromping on my own heart no matter how resolved I am to stop it.” In either case the end result is the same. Desolation. Solitude. Emptiness. It’s where I started out and where I end up consistently. The boot to the heart. Down in the dirt. Lower than before, if that can possibly be.
June 21, 2009 at 5:53 am
Hey now–
I was trolling around this morning (before diving back into checking everyone who’s liveblogging Iran) and somehow ended up on Dennis Perrin’s page. Checked his blogroll; liked the mouth/mind feel of grindchopblend; went there (here), got hooked, and successfully killed an hour.
My current blog (more informative than introspective, at this point) is here: http://wbsurf.livejournal.com/
A slightly older one is here: http://trixter-fox.livejournal.com/
And in honor of the Librarians Against Palin blog (in your roll), this is my little contribution to the revolution and it might lighten up your first day of summer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kx4kXgF88wQ
Cheers,
S
July 22, 2009 at 6:22 pm
Wrightsville Beach eh? That’s my side of the country. Pawley’s Island and Litchfield are my beaches….
June 21, 2009 at 3:27 pm
christ, I know my hormones are bad when that picture of the bird in the sand… i think that might be one of the saddest pictures i’ve ever seen.
i was queen of destruction… i only stopped when i got pregnant. it was like a fucking switch went off. so strange. if only i could stay pregnant forever