I wish I had the right words

I talked with Clock last night, in shadowy, smoky Metro with Nirvana playing.
Like a dream.
Paper tigers.
That bright blue burning overhead.
I will always love you.
Cola lip gloss freezing on my skin.
In the light, all around.
Even if it scares me.

(no subject)

I am watching some incredibly wrong movie with Christopher Walken, reading about last year's Triple Crown and horse racing, indulging in Lucius and crouching here beside the couch.

I was alone
When I knew it was real

I've got voices like ghosts today, stirred and wandering.

are we so old yet?

VH1 is showing 80s videos. Skid Row, "I Remember You" and these things I watched ages ago. Right now it's Faith No More, "Epic." Hah. My amusement knows no bounds. I'd forgotten just how wacky some of this stuff was. Melynda's singing along and Sam wants to see an old Metallica video.

I can still feel that younger version of me. How we watched all this for the first time at Tracy's house, for hours at a time.

Young Bono. With that hair. Good god.

There's a lot I could be writing about here. I'll save it for later, when I can put it all back together in some vaguely coherrent verbal manner.

Oh. My. "Paradise City." Guns N Roses, my first random pop culture obsession. Gods, I thought all those guys were so hot when I was twelve. I still kinda do, looking at them. Eesh. I suppose I should not be ashamed of my dorkiness, but hell when you tell people things like that, they look at you rather funny. Damn it. I don't give a damn. Damn.