when everything we felt failed, and some music soft in distant sails, but it don't sound like it did before, then i know i'm left with nothing more than my own soul
2004-11-11 & 2:19 a.m.

here we are, all clumsy hands and no coat-rack. i think we're living here and there is an overarching sadness with no conclusion. but we'll move away from the sadness into the language of moments and we'll learn to darn our own socks and drink champagne in the desert and i think the world is a little better off with all of us here.
here we come in our stained yellow skirts and thursday morning nonsense neon lit aisle serenades. there's a lot to celebrate and we'll celebrate it all.