one more short bit before the friendship blog

i recently saw a movie where the main character came to the realization that people love spouses, children, family, friends, jobs, and many other things, but that she hadn't realized until now what she actually loved. She had been so concerned with making others happy and showing them love, in the hope that they might show her love back and give her a reason to love them, that she didn't even think about what/who she loved.
being a bit overly reflective, this struck me and echoed in my head. i've been struggling the last few years with being away from my family and tyring to do grad school and so recently i've only gotten through it by thinking 'i am the person that these people love' -- and watchign this film, i realized that i wasn't entirely sure what i loved anymore---i know that when i came here, i loved stories and my friends and soemtimes my family
but now, i don't know
and after thinking and living and just doing regular stuff, i'm starting to remember why i came here agian, but i'm still not sure what my passion is---i like doing so many things, but i don't know if i love them, if they fill me up, if they define me..

just thinking, just sitting here listening to music, maybe about ready to read a book or to sketch a weaving project, that's a good start, maybe...

tell me a story

I can't sleep (a random, poorly written poem)

Tell me a story.
One with sheep that gently ba,
ba, break through the world. Reality
is a bed sheet
hung over a window,
and when you reach through it,
someone bashes the frame down.
Crushing you.

Crush me. Tell me
the story of a man who
made bad decisions,
who waited until the last
minute. For everything.

Tell me about the sheep who don't ba,
the knights that don't fight, the dumb
blondes who turn to ther big,
dumber boyfriends and say,
"tell me a story
one where I am not dumb,
where we look at each other and part,
and I find my way to a real home, where
I am not a blonde bitch." Yes,

tell me a story. And I"ll tell you one too.
One about some sheep, a window, a sheet,
and a man counting sleep, and
when he wakes in the morning, his hand
will be bashed, his girlfriend will have gone.
He will smile with a shiver,
at the breaking of dawn.

shaky grounds

academe is a competitive, back-stabbing, passive aggressive bitch with painted finger nails, donut breath, and too much black clothing
so what the fuck am i doing hanging out with her?
i'm beginning to think that i made the biggest fucking mistake of my life going to grad school----i feel like shit all the time, i don't think my research means shit in the long run, and i've made perhaps 1 long term social connection since coming here (i'm probably over-exaggerating but it feels like 1 and a half even optimistically, with the way people drift, far faster than continents)
and now i'm trapped in indiana with a degree that means close to nothing and a life that tastes like poorly made instant mashed potatoes
yes, i'm being negative, but that's the mood that i'm in --- prove me wrong and i'll do the same the next time you're feeling nihilist
or you could just turn around and forget about the whole thing

i guess the positive might be that so many, many people want to be here, but then all i can think is, great, take my spot and i'll go die in the forest, the way i probably should have died when i was 11 and got lost in a state park
and instead of talking to people who care, i'm gonna go ahead and keep reading and writing for a paper due later this week

ode to joy; feeling like shit in such a way that life feels useless and i push away all the positiveness---wee

capitalist internet nostalgia

do you ever get that feeling?
I know, oblique and unclear much? but, still, i just had that feeling, that one where i see something about a friend, where someone says how close they are, or where the friend is all 'oh i just love this person because..' and i get jealous, and misty, and think about all the good stuff we used to do
and how it's gone
but then i'm pessimistic, and a bit gloomy, even though i'm even downright cheery right now
i've even had several people comment recently that, despite their being grumpy and fighting lately, they cheered up when i entered the room and hung out with them----which is...different, but not really

anyway, that feeling, right? i don't know if it's nostalgia (missing something i never really had, missing a moment that never existed or a closeness that was only perceived) or if its memory (remembering someone i was and someone they were and knowing it's gone and no matter how hard i try, it won't come back) or if its just distancing myself from here (wishing i weren't in indiana and identifying my me-ness with a somewhere else, a someone else)
but

no matter what it is, i wish i could be that close to that person right now

which is silly, cuz i'm going to hang out with some friends here tonight, despite my being so busy that i really should just work until daylight, sleep for 4 hours, and work until daylight again, repeating as necessary

but i suppose that a. what is lost that way just doesn't stop feeling right and good and wanted, and b. the grass is always greener, and c. i hate the internet

why hate the internet? because it reminds me of all the things i've lost, of all the people i knew, of all the people i could've known, of all the people i could've been, of all the places i could've gone
and pulls me away from right here, right now, where i'm not thinking about that person, their friends, or wishing i could be there friend again (which i'm pretty sure is the only way a person seems desirable as a friend, by not needing people at all, no matter how stupid that sounds, is, and shows us all to be)

ah, schmoozing (read: pretending not to need friends/money/job/anything when really you really really do), how i hate you so

Coming Soon to a Computer Monitor Near You

preview: three people on a beach, one of them turns to the other two, says "Did you know that since the 50s, American friendship rates have declined rapidly? Such that, each person only has 1 to 2 people they say they really trust and love? And that person is generally their spouse?"
Other two people look at first, blonde one. They look perturbed, standing on a beach, wearing swim trunks. But it is April.
One of the two says, "Hmmm. That explains a lot."

Preview 2:
see below

gah!

nuclear energy is evil
it is subsidized to infinity because 1. uranium is expensive, 2. the waste takes hundreds of years to degrade at all (and often finds its way into underpriveleged, underrepresented, minority areas, SURPRISE!), and 3. it is not efficient compared to solar, wind, tidal, and VARIOUS other alternative energies
nuclear energy is incredibly unsafe and inevitably unsound---it's generally only beneficial for the extremely wealthy in the long run, and there's practically no real plans for waht happens if things get fucked up----as far as CRAP systems, it's right up there with the prison system that privatizes prisoners and makes sure it's mostly minorities in there and then puts those prisons in counties that need more population to get more money

ugh

in other news
here is my drawing for my current project in art--a dreaming-broken-by-thunder mandala

I DO NOT CARE

i'm trying to figure out what i want to say about apocalyptic comics for a paper (which i've limited to the usa and to non-adaptations-of-books-or-films) and i don't have any fucking clue

mostly, i want to dose gently in someone else's living room on their comfy couch or antiquey chair with a cozy back and footrest just after having eaten something tasty but while still waiting for someone or something to happen
i want to look forward to that moment when that person or thing happens
when i will get up out of the chair and we will do something meaningful or fun
when i will again thank the world for a few moments in someone else's living room whose very presence makes me feel safer and wiser, with just a bit stronger sense of how the world spins on its axes

i want that so badly right now

i heart

a few lessons learned
1. don't hide in houses with thick curtains or blinds blocking out the world. don't try to keep the world out. it is in you and doing this only makes you feel unhealthy and scared and oh-so-alone.
2. (this from i heart huckabees) life is full of meaning, or something-ness, and everything means something, but
3. nothing really means anything because it could all be equally meaningful--and because life is painful, full of misery and awfulness and nihilistic moments, like too many jelly beans in your mouth after easter guests have left, but
4. it's that pain that leads to meaning, by feeling something horrible, maybe we bond with others, talking about it or sharing it, or maybe we come to understand something about ourselves, or maybe we just realize that somethingness or meaning or love/joy/warmth only exists if we make it, if we rub the sticks together
5. (rough translation of ursula leguin) love is bread in the oven; you have to bake it fresh every morning
and
6. it's spring, i ahve to admit it, and i have way too many things to do, i keep trying to do too much in too little time
so instead, i'm gonna try the reverse
too little in too much time, because that's the way that life should work
or it loses all reason/meaning/organization/joy---we should not run through our days with alist of things to do that never ends---that is merely capitalism and people and bottled-up fears trying to break their way into a place they can never go (our lives)

"stop acting like you don't have control,"
she says, pulling the covers close to her skin,
" you've chosen and you choose every day"

7. SPRING!! Oh, season, welcome!!

"give me something to sing about" - buffy

so in thinking about school and life and stuff
i feel generally uninspired

i sit in these rooms with computers and people
(the more time passes, the harder it is to tell the two apart:
both so generally uninventive and easy to overload)
i sit and i open my mouth, words come out,
they don't really mean anything
i don't even know if i mean them, just that i know i'm supposed to speak

i spent 2 hours last night, awake, restless, turning over and over
and over in my bed
(alex was on my feet, staring at me like i was a fly in his soup
except with the added disgrace that i would not pet him, which really
really drifts from that original metaphor)
thinking about class
about how this one class where the teacher calls on people to say stuff
to explain stuff quickly and discreetly, which i hate,
where she has assigned extra stuff for the break, and all i can think, all
i want to say is 'how dare you? -- this is my life, stop pressuring me
to givve you more, i read 2 books a week for you and it's not enough!? i give
my comments and my brainpower and my life to you on a weekly basis and you want more?!
more?
really?'
because i feel like a bad scholar or student or person
for not doing more (for not doing everything possible for class, like some,
who read foucault because someone said his name once
in a book
in france
as a way of being pretentious
and misdirecting the reader

and even worse
i don't have the positivity to say 'fuck it' and move on
i keep wanting to do more work, if only to feel that i deserve more free-time
which is ridiculous

it's really the result of a puritan thing, where i feel guilty for lesiure and good about work even as it drains me entirely
i mean,
i want INSPIRATION
not boring books that bore me, that drain me, that zap my strength
or i'd be doing a law degree so i could actually have some ethical power int he world
(though that's being idealistic, and even then, law can be fun)

"today I just want someone to entertain me
I'm tired of being so fierce
I'm tired of being so friendly
...
somebody do something
anything soon
I know I can't be the only
whatever I am in the room
so why am I so lonely?
why am I so tired?
I need company
I need backup
I need to be inspired"
ani d, 'face up and sing'

i internalize everything it seems
or mabye i'm just willing to admit it

today, i spoke to sara far too early in the morning, she was in boston
with my brother
(whose very presence in the world seems to require my own to balance his obstinate him-ness [not that he's good or bad, but that we are so very opposite], especially i'm sure when one is staying in his home)
and she was frustrated because his life is empty yet he pushes it on her
with space and dishwashing and rules and statements and emotional blackmailing that is generally only implied
(as reported by sara stoll in the report 'i'm on the phone with my brother so fuck off' dated blahbalh)

in the process, the point is, i realized that we, people not just my bro, work so hard for symbols that our life is full (a full planner, a full list of things to do, credentials on the wall, a phd, an mrs degree, a husband/wife/fuck buddy, a pet, a house, clothing, tools, a guitar, a shower that is not a stand-up model, a particular floorplan, a space, a garden, or in this case, a GIANT television and an empty thought immaculate home)
that we forget that it already is

we keep saying that there's NEVER ENOUGH TIME
but TIME is right HERE, passing before us, moving like photons through our every being
we are time, we are moments, here and there, where something is felt, understood:
a church with bergamot and sunlit windows in italy
a hand to hold when the word cancer slips into a room
smiling faces and good food on a cold night
words that speak the truth, possibly more truly than the truth itself

we live and we die and we move
we move on
but what's important isn't the symbol
it's the sense that we do move, we move in a space, on a trajectory, where we belong
and whether it's history or conspicuous consumption, we feel out of place when the space is someone else's (with all their assumptions and ignorances)
but that time is the moment to recognize that we are so very fragile, with our symbols, and that the only real reality is something iread that philip k dick said:

"Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away." pkd

and we can respect each other when we realize that the words and the walls and the memories are just ways of holding back the really real, the deep night that is the universe where life is a speck of dust to be vacuumed away----we are each only trying to hold on

though, of course, that doesn't mean that some of us aren't holding on to garbage (teehee, yes tv's are NOT a good way to make life, they are crap, and history is ALWAYS intended to do something)

so what with all the rambling? hmmmm, that's the point, though, isn't it, let's ramble with one another, let's rap some ideas about (and i use rap in the 60s sense of conversing) and connec the dots with one another----because really, how else do we find that stuff that doesn't go away when we stop believing in it?? other than by holding someone's hand, and remembering we're not alone
NOT EVER

so, uh, hmm

if you've actually caught the last two blogs (which have been removed)--i should tell you that i've received a letter saying 'sorry, we didn't mean to send you a rejection letter, we're actually still considering your application and haven't come to a decision yet, but we really like you'
so not rejection....? emailing a person was a good idea, cuz they were like 'what?' and then emailed someone else who was like 'say what?' and then the sitch became clear---mistaken letter
as a result, i've taken off the last two posts, mostly for my own benefit (as i'm still kinda reeling, like 'wait, i'm not rejected? am i accepted? no, so...whahuh?)

but here's the poem from the one

the many deaths of imagination

tired of losing, he jumps out of windows
every morning. it awakens the sun
at least, pulls the sheets out from under
the world, who yawns, and shivers,
and shakes, and stares
at the blood splayed without order.

tired of losing, he helps
chinese river dolphins
jump out of sewer grates
with karate moves and a sense
of justice. he moves with gentle grace
through the soul-shattering space
of a city, a sewer
where naked apes live, and he cuts
reality from itself, leaves holes
for people to live in.

tired, he sleeps,
dreams of women with strong hearts
and hands of cold steel. they rip
the world asunder, reveal its tender graces,
the sun rising, the moon,
eclipsed by smog, the man who jumps

through windows and stares
wonderingly at the sun shining,
thinking, 'apollo in all his graces
still lies dead upon the sill'.

Comic by me

You're Welcome
has been removed
if you wanna copy of the comic, email me

a quote from borges

"The poet spoke the poem. It was a single line...
'In the years of my youth,' said the king, 'I sailed toward the setting sun. On an island there, I saw silver greyhounds that hunted golden boars to their death. On another we were feted with the fragrance of magic apples. On yet another I saw walls of fire. On the most remote of all, there was a vaulted river that hung from the sky, and in its waters swam fish and sailing ships. Those were marvels, but they do not compare with your poem, which somehow contains them all. What sorcery has given you this?'
'At dawn,' said this poet, 'I awoke speaking words that at first I did not understand. Those words are the poem. I felt that I had committed some sin, perhaps that sin which the Holy Spirit cannot pardon.'
'The sin the two of us now share,' mused the king. 'The sin of having known Beauty, which is a gift forbidden mankind.'" (Borges, "The Mirror and the Mask" in The Book of Sand)

a poem

Zombie

She takes your hand first
leaves the nail clippings in the doorway
to protect you from demons
so that she can consume you whole

Next she takes the soft flesh
of your ankle
to protect you from leaving
to keep you

Then she takes your lips
to stop the air in your throat
to prevent you from revealing
the betrayal

And you know that you've been compromised
that you gave up everything to become
to become someone
someone you never wanted to become

And when you can't even taste the morning
you know that it's too late to turn
turn around, turn into someone,
someone worth turning into

But when she reaches for your heart
it's not there, not in her mouth, but
in your hand, the beat
the bumpabump of twilight and you
you're somewhere
else

two inside jokes and some information

random, but requested, picture---s! listening to your mix and missing you...



clytoris slangg?

back in bton, sleepy, applying to things, overwhelmed by life again
c'est la vie
and i guess all is back to the norm

again i say, i have got to return some pants

not alone

so here's the meanings i'm about to write into a story about a guy who wants to be a hero
1. something i learned from harry--don't get so caught up in dreams that you forget to live in this world
2. But dreams are important, soemthying i learned from kazuo ishiguro--dreams and ideals are there for us to reach for, for us to try to do/live/be, and once we reach them (now italo calvino speaks), they become ordinary and we move on, to another ideal, to anotehr step on the path
3. and honesty is paramount--be only honest when in the company of thieves and they will fool themselves (forget where i got that, maybe joss whedon?)
4. yet i am afraid of love, somethihng i realized in a church of all places--don't worry, i was reading italo calvino at the time--i'm afraid of love, to love, to be loved, because i i lose control, because it will fall apart, because everything ends
5. BUT not everything falls apart--and more importantly, love is what makes life worth living for, in part or large part---friends and family and the laughter/energy of that is worth fighting, and worth living, for
6. so we are not alone, we do not fight this fight alone, on a battlefied, we are together and many---we can only live life or weather the fierce winds of chaos and finite danger with our hands held between us---naturally, we reach for eacch other, and in finding something valuable above all else, we also find the strength to be

IN OTHER NEWS
met with phoebe



and she inspired me to keep hoping, to keep thinking that i could do things that some people or persons tell me that i can't or shouldn't or won't be able to do
because i am me, and i have that capability

to be strong and follow my mind/heart/goals

xmas postumously

got many cool things this xmas
ml went nuts and got me the new spoon, killers, and buck 65
i bought myself les savy favs and sondre lerche, then sara got me dexter on dvd, a harry potter book, and some other stuff
i also got yarn, a suitcoat (that i bought several weeks ago and held onto cuz i knew there would be little to not xmas)
then my dad surprised me with bones on dvd and a new flash drive (cuz i just lost mine)---woopee
but the best part is we all went to xmas mass, ate food several times together, and made fun of one another, making the heavy stuff inm life lighter and the lighter stuff a bit more fun than normal
overall, a good break, but now i fear i've put aside too many imporetant details,,like appli ations to schools, to jobs, and what i'm going to do next year
thinking of woofing or moving to montreal reandomly, neither of which seems very possible at this points
wish i vcfould travel to the ccetner of a star jus t to watch it burn
cuz then life would seem less painful, less important, and a bit more real
not in a morbid way though, or watever

ps
life is good for now, haning with sara and doing nothing most days, not even caring about things that hurt, because they don't hurt as badly with her around
perspective, perspective, who's got the perspective
? my money's on my fam...

busy like porridge

i'm so sleepy that my eyes keep closing and my vision is blurry today
but that's just cuz i got 5 hours of sleep last night, 5 and a half the night before, and 4 on Sunday
welcome to HELL
or, in American, life.....or rather, having to do too many things that i was not notified i needed to do all at once while at the same time trying to finish two papers and a teching module and trying to work extra hours to make up for incoming spendage on christmas
argh!

plus, i've decided that i'm going to apply to the comm dept here---with the hope that i'll get in to both boost my academic weight in gold and to rekindle my spirits---seeing as how i find the cultural focus of the dept so interesting, specially compared to my current position weighed down with theories that don't really help
all i've ever wanted to do is describe the world accurately, to make you read a sentence and say 'oh' in a way that changes everything
but i keep getting bogged down in trying to prove myself, to profs, to school, to family, to myself---i need to remember that the reason i'm here is to both understand the world better and to learn how to tell stories that are socially responsible
rather than merely strategically money-making

in other news, everyone i know who reads this should send me their addresses via email NOW---yes NOW---so i can send their xmas presents this upcoming weekend, cuz i will most likely be doing everyone's presents except for tbird's---yes t, i'm afraid i haven't picked up anything for you yet

not much else to say, except that i'm world weary----i miss my friends in other places, and i even miss my few friends here (they've all flaked out in favor of paperwriting)–--but i get the sense it's that time of year, or i know the cause (in the case of one person traveling through europe)

i just thought of an interesting title for something: "traveling through europe with hot people"----like a dirty version of a mitch albom novel or something

sleep you, and sleep well---the world will collapse thursday night at 12 am
and then i get to rest, causing a domino effect
whereby not only will you fall into a bed that randomly appears before you
with clean sheets and a warm kitten waiting to curl next to you
but also the whole world will
the sun will wake up in a warm bed with black sheets
night will fall like a revelation
or a small bird in your heart that says 'who'

"put a little birdhouse in your soul" - theymightbegiants

so it's christmas...

and we're going to have to change traditions this year
because my parents have negative cashflow, in that they owe me 700 some dollars that I loaned them when they was in need (and i had just got my bookmoney) and in that they owe money to just about everyone
thankfully, my da is working, but only sub work, so there's little likelihood he'll even be able to pay for xmas dinner without borrowing from someone
probly me
the point is that we'll have to change our tradition from a consumer one, where we spend most of our time (as we have in the last few years) following various family member's desires to shopping for hours and hours
instead, i suspect that we'll spend more time at home, walking in the woods, talking over alcohol or tea, and trying to distract ourselves from the quaint tragedies of michigan's recession
which i'm actually looking forward to
i never really like xmas as a gift thing--the presents get boring for me after five minutes because i knew what i wanted or what i would get or i just get done with it--i'm there to be with people not things---anyway, i'm excited to see what happens when the money flow stops (a flow relative to most things so not really that much--we're talking mostly needed things like sweaters or shoes to replace worn out ones) and we're forced to face the reality of being very small specks in the vast tidal changes of the universe
i'm also TERRIFIED
so at the least, it should be interesting
if not overly dramatic and involving various revelations or moments of sobbing over the uncontrollableness of all things
hey it's the execution of all things
otherwise known as capitalism
after all, it IS the American Way

a would-be performance for people here, but i'm not confident they'd hear my voice

1. "Small Stakes Give You the Blues
But You Don't Feel Taken, Don't Think You've Been Used
Cause It's Alright Friday Night To Sunday
It Feels Alright, Keeps Your Mind On The Page

Oh Yeah Small Stakes Ensure You The Minimum Blues
But You Don't Feel Taken And You Don't Feel Abused
Small Stakes Tell You That There's Nothing Can Do
Can't Think Big, Can't Think Past One Or Two "
spoon - small stakes

2. I've been in a rut. I probably will remain there for a while yet, because i think i have something more to learn. In the last three years, I have been struggling with something; for the years before that, I learned that we all are always changing. I am not the person I was yesterday nor the jerk i was in gradeschool, or the loverboy i was in kindergarten (i kissed a girl named kristina four, but it was no big deal, we just wanted to see why our parents thought it was so cool---we thought it was pretty lame). I am something new everyday. Everyday is a chance to fuck it up all over again.
Or to make it new; a bed with clean sheets. But i forgot about the mattress. We change, but we stay the same. In the last few years, I've been remembering things and trying to piece that past and present together. Like a puzzle though, the picture remains unclear, and since it's a puzzle that doesn't end, i doubt i'll ever understand it fully. But i've begun to realize that we are the people we were 20 years ago, no matter how much we fight it. In our culture, change is the emphasis, but continuity is there too, and the reality is a blurred, mishmash of both, like when you play with your mashed potatoes.
The point? Small stakes will kill you by making life seem small; every day is a new beginning. And every day is a continuance of the whole life that came before it. If life's a bed, i have to lie in every part of it. What keeps me from confusing the edge with the curtains? Friends.

3.
Our heroine remembers the blade she used to kill her friend.
"This is Friendship"
She remembers what it was like to see her there, ready to fight.
"Step One: You finally meet someone you dig, somebody you can groove with, somebody who doesn't seem like all the other phony losers out there."
Our heroine remembers that she was the one who died that night.
"Step Two: They share a little of themselves with you, you share everything with them."
The fight...
"Step Three: It all goes to crap.."
a punch...
"They hurt you."
a kick...
"You hurt 'em back."
a headbutt.
"Or maybe it's the other way around. Whatever"
Her friend stabs her in the gut with our heroine's own knife.
"Someday you might find a way to forgive each other. But it won't ever be like it used to, 'cause that pain never really goes away."
She remembers saying 'you did it'.
"And in the end, no matter how many wicked good times you had together, you woulda been better off flying solo all along."
excerpted from Brian Vaughn's Issue 3 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer: No Future For You

4.
I read an astrological chart of my life. I read that I would become a leader of something, do something big when I was much older, and that now is the time for me to learn the lessons to make me into that bigger person, into someone worth being. Someone worth loving.
In the mean time, my current life challenge, up until I turn 29 is to learn to 'speak my heart.' And i realize that i rarely do, especially recently.
Now, there was a time I spoke my mind, but never an era where i spoke my heart. I don't know that I value it overtly much, seeing as how it seems to only bring trouble with it. But i'm going to try, simply because i want to, and because the few times that i have, i think it was a good thing to do. the most ethical, which is what i strive for.
we do not value friends. we walk through everyday as though work, school, traffic, television, research, readings, or a million other things were any more important than any other. Than each other. Than the planet and all its inhabitants. Which it isn't, outside of our being here, outside of us, but that's moot. we walk through everyday and pretend that we don't want to gush our hearts out on the floor and have someone clean up the mess, smile and say, 'that's beautiful, do it again'. so that we can gracefully admit it was all intended, which it wasn't, and that aren't we special? or not
maybe we just want to stop each other on the street and say 'hello, please, i'm all alone here and i don't know how to say i am' or maybe we don't care. maybe other things keep us occupied. maybe it's the small stakes of papers, rules, jobs, clothing, music, money. not that they're not valuable. but we act as though they replace family, friends, conversaiton, the objectivity only achievable through each other's eyes and hands to hold (not in a sexual way, generally).
we walk through everyday and maybe we dont' think about it, but we're all alone. and that's all right. but it's not sometimes. so stop acting as though you are so cool that you don't feel. stop looking at me like i'm strange for feeling this:
i am alone in this town most of the time and i don't want to be.
i know that you feel the same.
i see it in your eyes.
stop bullshitting me and look me in the eye with your mouth open wide and your heart spilling out, so that i can do the same.
so that, over time, over mutual good times, we can become good friends, strong friends, lifelong friends maybe, and when things get bad, broken, blue, good, great, greatest, we have soemone to turn to, someone to say 'hey, here's the truth, yo'
and when it falls apart, it falls apart
but in the meantime, we make life worth meaning, worth being made meaningful

what are we without friends?
i'll tell you, since i asked: we are hollowed out, living by small enough stakes that we don't notice we're turning our own lives into moot points

5.
"You won't find it by your self
You're gonna need some help
And you won't fail with me around
Come on let's go

I will tell you if you change
And who's been saying things
It's hard to tell who is real in here
Come on let's go

You know who to turn to
Now everything's changed
Come on lets go
Stop looking for answers
In everyone's face
Come on let's go

What's the point in wasting time
On people that you'll never know
Come on let's go

When you're looking for a friend
But it's empty at the end
When everybody's disappeared
You won't be alone

If you want I'll compensate
If you overestimate
So there's nothing left to fear
You won't be alone
You know who to turn to
Now everything's changed
Come on let's go
Stop looking for answers
In everyone's face
Come on let's go

What's the point in wasting time
On people that you'll never know
Come on let's go"

lyrics from "comeon let's go" by Broadcast

project 1?