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just some fellas plain guitar and saying metaphors. Makes sense that I didn’t get them until I entered my thirties.
She's a jar With a heavy lid My pop quiz kid A sleepy kisser A pretty war With feelings hid She begs me not to miss her

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As it was meant to be
1d ago

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Mar 12, 2025
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My dad is a musician and plays many instruments including the flute—he worships Ian Anderson; he and his late best friend Tom were Jethro Tull’s number one fans. I called them Jethro Dull. I was 4 or 5.
I remember being at Tom’s house sitting at the top of what felt like an endless staircase that went up to his loft—I was so tiny—watching them below and listening as they played this album on vinyl, just wondering when we could go home already. I wish I could go back to that moment. This song will always be imprinted on my soul.
Really don't mind if you sit this one out My word's but a whisper your deafness a shout I may make you feel but I can't make you think Your sperm's in the gutter your love's in the sink So you ride yourselves over the fields And you make all your animal deals And your wise men don't know how it feels To be thick as a brick
And the sandcastle virtues are all swept away In the tidal destruction the moral melee The elastic retreat rings the close of play As the last wave uncovers the newfangled way But your new shoes are worn at the heels And your suntan does rapidly peel And your wise men don't know how it feels To be thick as a brick And the love that I feel is so far away: I'm a bad dream that I just had today And you shake your head And said it's a shame
Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth Spin me down the long ages, let them sing the song
Feb 21, 2025
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I don't know any instruments, i don't read music, i don't know how to write songs, and so i wrote this song: Inspirations: The Velvet Underground, The Beatles, The Doors, Bob Dylan
Miss Misery by Clean Teeth
well i'm looking at miss misery and well she just don't know my name But we have met before i knew her long before this game
We used to be acquaintances like friends of the night She'd come over and sleep with me Tell me everything was alright But i never knew her name didn't care much to ask The job she was doin' me Was to unlock me from past
Miss misery was always there she never charged no fee She could tell i needed her so she let me lean for free
She never asked no questions She would only ever stay the night and when the morning broke no doubt she'd be out of sight
i had a hold on her and i don't really know why but i have since lost her or so i thought, until tonight
and so i'm looking at miss misery for what i hope to be the very last time and she's starring back at me i see the devil in her eyes
She ain't no friend of mine yeah, she ain't no friend of mine
And so i'm walking out the door and i still don't know her name she knows the whole story and boy that feels so strange
i'll see her when i see her whenever that may be i got to nip it in the bud i got to be set free
i got to be free from miss misery
Feb 24, 2025

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Damn. We couldn’t have just one more Friday post. Rest in peace.
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I am taking journalling seriously. It makes me feel cared for, pampered almost. I‘m taking my brain and wringing out all the thoughts onto a slab of paper. It’s also beneficial to the folks around me so they don’t have to put up with as many rants. My thoughts need to be extruded one way or another, and journalling has the added benefit of existing as a document that can be reviewed later.
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eating half of it right away, then keeping the other half for later. I usually forget about it immediately, so rediscovering it later is an euphoric experience.