hooks from songs I wrote in college
“Pilgrim swapping bodies to the next”
There’s a movie on Letterboxed that is 10 hours of paint drying where people post diary entries. Do you regurgitate your life below the 4.8 stars symbol, or are you normal?
“Coppermouth I’ll leave you there, coppermouth I’ll leave you there”
I am going to scatter my silver rings around the house in a spray of tears, like Zac did when he was really high. One day, someone will be vacuuming and they will see something luminescent out of the corner of their eye.
“Karma on a train, linger there…a painter’s death”
One time, NPR said that each unique experience makes life go slower, and so, the reporter decided to do as many new things as possible that month. Each adventure is a little ruby. Go down into the catacombs and dance, play harmonica, blow bubbles at a dive bar costume party. I’ve been thinking that going to the park and fucking are kind of, pretty much the same.
The reporter had to stop the experiment.
“There's a pool shaped like you in my mind”
Things only matter to us if we let them. Last summer, we thought, maybe he was going to die, and my friends cooked me dinner. There is a beautiful persimmon tree outside. Maybe I’ll never see you again but it was nice knowing you and I hope you stop getting so drunk. There is a stain on my white skirt. I want to buy a phone shaped like a hamburger.
“Burn the streetcars into dust and perfume, tear into the quiet, make out in a dark room”
When Frances exited the club in Le Marais, her wide eyes were suddenly pierced with white-hot light, focused into a point and exploding her corneas. From the window of a car driving at a constant velocity, a man inside expertly trained the thin beam on her face. She screamed. Later, her friend shrugged. “Oh yeah, guys like to do that to women outside clubs for fun because they can’t get in. You got lazered.”
I think I liked that he was an artist, but we didn’t speak the same language. There was a fountain shaped like a lion’s head that we drank from before kissing in the smoking room, a palate cleanse. When we went to his gallery show later that week, Chloe and I agreed it was boring.
“Regret is a stone that falls in your arms, I'm here and I’ll cry in your arms, to breathe again”
Coming home.
