couches in alleys

Hey Jack it's me,
I don't mean to bother you but somethings been on my mind.
At the end of this road that climbs the horizon will be reached in a matter of miles.
And when the wheels cease to spin the walls and the fences will grow higher than redwood trees.
And I know your demise.
And I fear what will happen when the road fails to flow under me.
Oh Jack you see, I felt like your mirror with the wind whipping through my hair.
When the wheels ceased to spin and I cased my surroundings, I realized I hadn't gone anywhere.
When the problems I'd left with couches in alleys, where no one would ever claim.
And the hardest part was sifting through the pieces of the rain soaked and rotten remains when I got home.

-styrofoam ft. ben gibbard

it's my favorite time of evening, when sun is setting and the sky is soft and warm, making blue and orange reflections on the cars. the dusk is setting in and the lights around the city have just come on, competing with the sunset for the brightest light. the purple neon from lupis is reflecting in the newly rain-washed windows of the cars parked outside and the sky is turning from orange to pink with a hint of violet where the pink fades into the blue. i wish i had my camera...i have color film in it right now.

im feeling like i want to say something
something...
a jumbled up mud of colors
wanting to be letters, sounds, words
music notes perhaps
lots of blue
choking on a few forgotten phrases
and memories
pulling the long string of thought
from my mouth
eyes are green
but hands are red
for the first time
heart is strong
strength is heart
raw
burned from the leaving
and lingering.

ive been absolutely fascinated by light for the past few months. i stop dead, staring at the way light is hitting something. studying every nuance of the source, shadow, and how it falls softly, like a fine powder sometimes...other times like a piece of broken slate. even lights in a river, making their rainbow colors wait for your attention, theyre just a little shy. nineteen lights reflect in two picture frames. streetlights line up, each one reaching a ray out to touch the middle of the windshield; holding on, stretching until the bright line snaps back to wait for another passing car. the curved edge of light from recessed spotlights, the two distorted ovals from a lamp. beams caught and cut by the sharp edges of glass. im fascinated, absolutely in love. weird isnt it?