it's 10:52 p.m., on 2001-08-17 - a chris keller vibe.

~

So I watched the most horribly sad part of OZ again today -- it just happened to be on the television. The part that went, 'don't let go' but Toby does?

It's not good for my health. I have a really long drive tomorrow and all I want to do is wallow wallow wallow.

That sounds like swallow.

Swallow. Wallow.

I'm listening to REM unplugged (found a place I could download it) and Michael stipe is saying, 'I'm sorry', but you know what? Sometimes it's not enough.

~*~

'I'm sorry.'

That's all the fucking Lord wants to hear. i'm sorry, and then all your fucking sins are gone and you're wiped clean and you start again.

Fuck that. I know hell. I don't feel the love of god but I know hell like I know toby's insides and you know what? it's something priests told us to keep their own fucking jobs.

It smells like grease in here.

~*~

Okay, I got as far as 'it smells like grease in here' and then I felt so full with restlessness. I'm so, I am. So. I am so, I want to. I am restless. So.

Michael stipe is crooning 'trying to keep up with you'.

I'm trying to keep up with me.

~*~

There's a certain pace a life takes, if you start it right. Once you set your pace then, pretty much, that's it, and you're done. Pacing, timing, rhythm. once you start, you're on your way.

Chris shrugs. "Forgive me father, for I have sinned..."

it's just two little words, 'I'm sorry', but they never come.

~*~

~

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