Crash Into Me, best song of 20th century


“Crash Into Me”

You’ve got your ball
you’ve got your chain
tied to me tight tie me up again
who’s got their claws
in you my friend
Into your heart I’ll beat again
Sweet like candy to my soul
Sweet you rock
and sweet you roll
Lost for you I’m so lost for you

You come crash into me
And I come into you
I come into you
In a boys dream
In a boys dream

Touch your lips just so I know
In your eyes, love, it glows so
I’m bare boned and crazy for you
When you come crash
into me, baby
And I come into you
In a boys dream
In a boys dream

If I’ve gone overboard
Then I’m begging you
to forgive me
in my haste
When I’m holding you so girl
close to me

Oh and you come crash
into me, baby
And I come into you
Hike up your skirt a little more
and show the world to me
Hike up your skirt a little more
and show your world to me
In a boys dream.. In a boys dream

Oh I watch you there
through the window
And I stare at you
You wear nothing but you
wear it so well
tied up and twisted
the way I’d like to be
For you, for me, come crash
into me

~Dave Matthews Band 2002.jpg



My Dad Loves The Eagles


Hi everyone,

This week, I have a real conundrum on my hands. Yes, its been lovely weather, yes school is easy now, yes I finally paid back those lone sharks, YES I finally got one marriage proposal. But things inside me are dark. They are so dark.

Last night, I went home, to my Dad’s house. My dad is a true bachelor, he has a spittoon that he won in a spitting contest, and he owns a copy of “Making Divorce Easier On Your Child”, which he did not do. He turned a shelf on his book shelf into a liquor cabinet. He bought a Hawaiian shirt when he went to Hawaii.

I’ve always known my dad was a Dad, but it turns out I didn’t know the extent of this sickness. I came home last night to my dad using his surround sound speakers to play “Take it Easy”, by the Eagles. He was crying. He was sober.

Before I could say anything, he said, “The Eagles are an American rock band formed in Los Angeles in 1971 by Glenn Frey, Don Henley, Bernie Leadon, and Randy Meisner. With five number-one singles, six Grammy Awards, five American Music Awards, and six number one albums, the Eagles were one of the most successful musical acts of the 1970s. At the end of the 20th century, two of their albums, Their Greatest Hits (1971–1975) and Hotel California, were ranked among the 20 best-selling albums in the United States according to the Recording Industry Association of America. Hotel California is ranked 37th in Rolling Stones list of “The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time” and the band was ranked number 75 on the magazine’s 2004 list of the 100 Greatest Artists of All Time.[2]” 

I left and cried in the stairwell. How traumatizing!

Paganism and Throw Pillows


Hi everyone!

The weather is so nice now, and everyone has allergies! This makes it so, so much easier to justify why I am ALWAYS crying! Wow!

This week I am crying because my throat hurts. You see, my mom raised me well and taught me that I should always be there for my friends and take care of them. My mother has MANY embroidered throw pillows that tell me to care for my friends also. Here are some examples:

Anyway, so my good friend got very sick this week, and I went to take care of her. We watched many episodes of Seinfeld, but mostly to block out the sound of her neighbors also watching Seinfeld. Then, we made popcorn and did a pagan ritual. But during the spit and blood sharing portion, I got her sickness. Now, my throat hurts, and I can’t stop crying and coughing!

Thanks a lot, Pagan Gods!

So Many!



How’s the last few weeks been treating you all? It’s been such lovely weather, and school is pulling through to a close. Many people are gearing up to take long summer trips, or go prom shopping, or they are anxiously awaiting their Gov Ball passes in the mail. At least once a day, the hallways erupt into cheers as another senior promposes to someone they swear is just a friend. People sit outside to eat their baconeggandcheeses at lunch. Iced coffee is an acceptable beverage (though it never wasn’t). Everyone has committed to colleges and universities.

As usual, I have been weeping my life away.

Because there are so, so many reasons why I am crying this time, I’m going to make a short list:

  1. The doctor said I’m officially done growing. I will never be tall enough to be a fashion model or a basketball player. My genetics have closed the door on so many height-based opportunities, and I’m so young.
  2. I’m so young.
  3. I can’t seem to own matching socks. This is highly distressing.
  4. I wanted to make a concept album but I never followed through, now I want to make it again. This could be good, except for the fact that I want to make a concept album.
  5. I never got to be a preteen Youtube sensation like Rosie Courage.
  6. My dad gave me 20 dollars today.

I can’t tell if it’s allergies or straight up tears I’m crying, but it’s amazing. I love to hurt!

Until next time!




Hey cuties!

Has anyone been outside lately? Has anyone been enjoying the spring weather? Has anyone heard the birds chirp, felt the sunshine, seen the crocuses and daffodils and tulips poking their heads up out of the flower beds?

I fucking haven’t.

You see, it’s hard to be outside if you are stuck on a train, underground, completely immobile. This happens to me at least 20 times a day. I have begun to live on the subway, because the pure awfulness of its service is keeping me hostage.

I like to be as fun and bubbly as possible on this blog, but I’m afraid I simply cannot Keep My Cool any longer. This is getting far out of hand. I haven’t left this dingy, poorly-lit A train car since two days ago, and the MTA website still boasts “good service”. I don’t know what to do. The walls are closing in on me. Everyone has been nervously eyeing each other but saying nothing. A mariachi band has been playing La Bomba for seventeen hours straight. It’s still Showtime. Every now and then, the conductor swallows the mic and gargles that there is train traffic ahead of us, we should be moving shortly.

I can’t stop crying. There is mascara all over my face- my eyes, my cheeks, my nose, my chin. I can’t stop weeping, and everyone is looking at me. I am so hungry, so hopeless. So tired. My eyes are like little sun dried tomatoes, but I haven’t seen the sun in so long.




No Good Reason


April is here, and so are my tears!

While I’m happy the weather is getting nice again, I also know that humanity has broken the planet, and there’s no way to tell if these sunny days are here to stay. The human race is a parasite. The birds are singing, but not for much longer!

This week, I had absolutely no good reason to cry. I know, it’s hard to believe. There are always a multitude of good reasons to cry: late trains, confusing friends, societal pressure to succeed in a typical fashion, the gentle whisper of death lurking underneath every uttered word. But this week was good. I slept well, woke up, enjoyed my food, and encountered no issues. I got way into reading and listening to Johnny Cash, music I don’t often feel the need to cry to! It was so odd.

So naturally, I got home on Sunday night and burst into tears. See, I was eating cashews (unsalted) and realized how boring every day life is. Media has lied to us. We will not all have great loves, great losses, monumental achievements. Some of us just eat cashews and then we die.

By the time I finished, my whole face tingled with angst. What an amazing cry!