2001-07-11 - 12:09 a.m. - who ya gonna call...?
tonight was a night for ghosts, and for once none of them were mine.we sat outside the cofee shop that his girlfriend works at and talked about music and life and this hole of a place im stuck in for two more years of my life. he would reminicse about how things used to be (better than they are now but still not wonderful) and i would listen intently in a vain attempt to reconstruct the pieces of this crumbling town and hope that maybe i could find the missing puzzle pieces--you know, that one piece right in the middle where the boat on the lake sits, or that one corner or piece on the border that you need to hold the picture together so all the colors of that captured moment don't come spilling out of the hole, painting the surface of your breakfast room table with shades of blue pink and green--that could hold this town together and make the next two years into something beautiful.
but there is no missing puzzle piece to be found. this town is defective.
i sat there listening to how, even back in the glory days of bowling green indie rock, all the people were so angry and filled with contempt for their peers. and is aw myself as wile e coyote having just run off a cliff and afraid to look down, feeling around with my toes and realizing there is no ground beneath my feet (see, it happens to us all Mr. Rushdie). I look down and my body falls out from under me, stretching my neck so my head stays in the air, i look at you and wave goodbye just before my head is whipped down to the ground behind my body which is now forever imprinted, perfectly shaped and sized--like a three dimensional sillhouete arms and legs spread like ifjesus were crucified on an 'x' instead of a cross--six feet into the ground. i know ill climb back out with just a big bump on my head and stars spinning in front of my eyes, creating an elliptical orbit of pain and dreams which will slowly fade into what is real.
and then next saturday it will happen again...but that's okay because saturdays are always good for me (yes mr. thomas, saturdays are great for everyone thanks to you).
and ed and ginger you are so lucky to be getting out of here. i can already feel the wierdness building for thursday nights big show. in a way it seems like it might be a sort of right of passage, or a farewell bend from this dying town. for you. but you better not leave easystreet until i buy you each a beer.
xoxo.
listen to: cursive, ten dollar typewriter, flashpapr, his name is alive, stereolab.
don't listen to: bowling green. move away from this place as quick as you can.
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