TO THE FEMALES: IMA MAKE THIS SHIT PUBLIC SO EVERYBODY & THEY MOTHA COULD SEE THIS… If your man is on my page, dont request me. I dont know you, and dont care about you. You aint getting on my page on some sneak shit. If you gotta problem, tell your man to delete me I wont give two fucks, honestly. I dont want your man, dont need your man, and I’m already involved. Dont add me to see what I post, what your man comments or likes. Tell him to delete me or something, handle that with him. I dont got nothing to do with you OR your man. YOU WONT GET ACCEPTED! Females, stop being so insecure about yourselves, keep it pushing .
“You didn’t commit to change because this city would make you the woman you wanted to be. You knew the woman you were. You know the woman you demanded yourself to become, and she belonged in New York.”
“ My introduction to clinical trials happened during summer vacations when I was in elementary school. My mother, traditional enough to reject giving her kids an allowance but entirely comfortable with her children undergoing random medical tests, indirectly sold her son and daughter to research.”
So there’s a website called Thought Catalog and they posted one of my essays that been previously on my Tumblr. Which is pretty cool and I’m really excited about it. Generally, the comments have been very nice. But of course, thanks for reading me all along. lol.
Sometimes I let the piano speak for me. The four chords I know repeating and releasing; conjuring meaning that otherwise would go unexpressed. And you are moved. And you kiss me.
Sometimes I let this city speak for me. It is diverse and massive. Intimidating and inviting. And it is my home. And I steal its power to create an image of me for you to embrace. A lover that is bold and electric. And you are inspired.
Sometimes I let the galaxy speak for me. I bring you into darkness and let silence describe the galaxy above us. Its brilliance reminding us of our solitude. While granting the desire us our escape it together.
But sometimes I speak for myself. And you are not so easily fooled. Words that are honey to your ears flow hollow to your heart. You are a strong, sensible woman and won’t be moved by words.
And so I wonder sometimes How the city learned subtlety. How the planets practice stillness. How music learned to keep secrets.
come thou fount by mumford and sons. yes yes yes yes.
This is my favorite hymn. And while I may not be the biggest fan of Christianity anymore, (or Mumford and Sons for that matter), this song and performance are absolutely moving and amazing.
So, candicelizabeth is a Tumblr star. She doesn’t care for capital letters, at least in her writing. She’s amazing. And I steal from her often, just not this blatantly. Anyway, she wrote something beautiful a few days ago. And I decided to plug it in to something I’d been messing around with on the piano. And so I hope she likes it. Because I did screw around with the writing. And as you will hear, my singing is dreadful. But I would like to believe I did the source material some justice. Maybe.
Here was the original:
you’re a soldier going off to war a apologetic knock upon the door your nights spent in lonely fear six months turned into six years you’re a father now from that one night home you’re a picture to him a hero in sepia tone
Here is what I did:
Once my lover heading off to war Now a hallow knock on the door. Now a soldier off to war.
Your nights spent in foreign fear As six months turned into six years. Now a solider off to war.
Once my lover heading off to war Now a lonely knock on the door. And your promises on the floor.
Your nights spent in foreign fear As six months flamed into six years Now a solider off to war.
You’re a father now. From that night that you spent home. You’re a father now. A legacy; innocence in bone. You’re a father now. You’re a picture to your boy. You’re a father now. a hero in sepia tone.
So, last week, a video entitled “Why I hate religion but love Jesus” was all over YouTube. All over Facebook. And I responded. Generally, talking about religion is harder than describing being in love, or why baseball is the greatest sport on Earth, or why Sarah Mclachlan’s music is so good. But I tried and I think I got my points across. The comments have been fun to follow. Gotta love the internet.
i wanted to write you poetry but you wouldn’t let me. i wouldn’t let myself. our two favorite words were “not yet.” i left my notebook behind and fell, instead, like the first snowfall of winter: soft. you’ve always had a thing for girls with dark hair, so you owe my father some thanks….
