it's 1:32 a.m., on 2001-06-17 - a love affair with REM.

~

I've found myself a new love affair, and it's like a quiet orgasm-- no screaming, no tension, just buildup and buildup and buildup and then,

Release.

I fucking love REM.

Why didn't I remember how lusty Micheal Stipes was? They're as passionate as U2. It's like 'beautiful day' but instead of a canyon, it's a stream.

They're as minor-chord as Counting Crows, but lower key. He's as quiet as Thom Yorke in interviews, but less-- he looks less asinine than Thom.

It's, it's, they're.

Sublime, baby.

I want to see the Parthenon in Nashville. I want to see the trees. It's like, my whole body is just pleading with me. I want to *see*.

~*~

I feel like I should be, active, or, rockin', or even, working at a diner, and smiling a little, trying to show people that what you are isn't who you are-- which is a warped quote that I think I stole from Tan. But, it's true.

What you are -- afraid, lonely, naked, girl, boy, Brian, Bobby, Jubilee, Tara, --Keller, whatever you are. It doesn't change who you are.

And that's alive. And you.

~*~

Okay, I know that makes no sense whatsoever, but it made a lot more sense inside my skull when I was bouncing it around than it does onscreen, trust me. But then, a lot of things do, like chocolate flavored jizz, and all those childish, inefficient ways to communicate that I keep stumbling on, and, and... and most of the Buffy/OZ stories.

Okay, all of them.

But still.

It makes as much sense as my other crazy metaphors, wouldn't you agree?

I want to play 'murmurs' on repeat and find the secret message to Mebane... maybe it would really be for me. Micheal Stipes, who art thou?

Yes, I'm deeply in love with REM. This is a permanent love affair, I think, like my on-again, off-again, always fond memories of 'odelay' and 'lost and lazy' -- because, we really are -- and the Counting Crows. Adamn Duritz and I have a special relationship. He comes in and out of my life in rapid movements, and leaves a change in his wake.

Strangely enough, Paris didn't give me his love of the Counting Crows. I did that all on my own.

Though, the Counting Crows and REM touring together would be just fabulous. Throw in Radiohead, and I think I'd have a heart attack. But fuck, I'd die happy.

I'd say the Pumpkins, too, but they don't have that quiet clouds and running-stream vibe-- every time I listen to the Pumpkins I get in trouble because I get depressed. Beck is, absurd. 54-40 is simple and livin'. And U2 is a canyon, not a stream... yes, I can see Adam Duritz and Micheal Stipes being the men in my life that stir up my 'who are you'. 54-40 just play, Beck stirs up laughter.

Billy Corgan just stirs up trouble.

I'm laying here, and I'm full. Right now, y'know, I'm not afraid to tell you that I feel so full, I almost-- it feels like I don't need anything else. I'm happy with myself, right here, and that canyon opens up, letting in the sky, and I can taste it. Which is the only thing I've ever wanted -- to be happy with myself. If I could play guitar, I could call myself a starving musician, but since I can't play anything I'll have to be a starving--

I hesitate to say poet. Poets have this, vibe, and I don't really, I mean. Poetry is something people recognise, eventually, and I don't think they'll see it here.

Maybe, that's bullshit. Maybe I'm hoping that they will, because I *have* been told, in my life, that I have poetry, and that I can write, and I almost, I'm starting to believe it, which is a little absurd. When you believe you can write, you end up being second rate, I think. I don't know why. Old stereotype, maybe. You can be good and you can know you're good... but you can't believe in your own mythology.

Wanna know a secret? I think we all fall in love with our own mythology.

~

The current mood of lisewilliams@geocities.com at www.imood.com

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what would sith be nostalgic about anyway - November 24, 2015
moving truck dilemma - October 28, 2015
- - July 19, 2015
- - July 01, 2015
bruise - June 29, 2015

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