I tried to be like Grace Kelley.

But all her looks were too sad.

Yeah, I could be wholesome,
I could be loathsome
but I'm a little bit shy.
Why don't you like me?
Why don't you like me without making me try?

I could be brown, I could be blue,
I could be violet sky.
I could be hurtful, I could be purple;
I could be anything you like.

Just give up and admit you're an asshole.

You would be in some good company. I think you'd find that your friends would forgive you, or maybe I'm just speaking for me.

You can't hide behind social graces, so don't try to be all touchy-feely and you lie in my face of all places, but I've got no problem with that really.
What bugs me is that you believe what you're saying. What bothers me is that you don't know how you feel. What scares me is that while you're telling me stories you actually believe that they are real.

And I've got no illusions about you. And guess what? I never did. And when I said "I'll take it", I meant 'as is'.

When I look around I think this is good enough and I try to laugh at whatever life brings 'cause when I look down I just miss all the good stuff and when I look up I just trip over things.

I've got no illusions about you. Guess what? I never did and when I say I'll take it, I mean 'as is'.



Ani Difranco is my soul sister.

"God, I wanna' be brilliant, I wanna' glow in the dark,"

said a grasshopper to the sky, which perched perilously atop the steeples of the world.

Seconds later, a robin swoops from a clothesline, snatches the incognizant orthoptera in her dainty beak from a blade of grass, and returns like a boomerang to the very spot she had previously alighted.

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I want to write a weird firefly/bug allegory, involving religion, reincarnation, hiccups, and unearthly tarps. Keep your eyes peeled. I'm going to want opinions.

Thanks.