I woke a bit blue today but don't know why. sometiems if i watch old black and white movies from the 30s it helps. what's yr cure for the blues. And dont say listen to Blues music cause that makes me feel even bluesier.
Well I don't know if it helps, but it keeps me busy till it's passed: I usually put on too much make-up and listen to old Suede records. Sometimes I take a drink and paint something.
well booze worsens it and so does caffeine. it counters the Paxil which I take for anxiety which is linkes to depression. So I know I'm melancholy now cause i drank coffee...
old movies esp. from the 30s, i get lost in them. they are so removed from today's problems, violence, technology. A gangster gets shot, but there's no blood, the comedies like Marx Bros. are brilliant without sex and visible body fluids. My mom was always into old movies. She knew every film and actor and I guess i picked up on that as a way to comfort myself.
and doing something creative helps. I like to write. I suck at painting.
yeah. she takes good pics. Once again comforting. Shadowy buildings, that same sort of light. It's like night is approaching and you have to get to town before teh vampires come out, but you know you'll make it.
It looks a bit like sunrise, but still a very good story.
I feel like the winter is very long and endless so I might get depressed if the process of winter ending is too slow. Those years when it's all grey outside for two months or something.
The first spring air have a sort of nostalgic, melancholic feeling to it, so that might do it too.
Or i get all bubbly and happy because the sun's out. But enough of that here.
Maybe, maybe it's the clothes we wear,
The tasteless bracelets and the dye in our hair,
Maybe it's our kookiness,
Or maybe, maybe it's our nowhere towns,
Our nothing places and our cellophane sounds,
Maybe it's our looseness,
But we're trash, you and me,
We're the litter on the breeze,
We're the lovers on the streets,
Just trash, me and you,
It's in everything we do,
It's in everything we do...
Maybe, maybe it's the things we say,
The words we've heard and the music we play,
Maybe it's our cheapness,
Or maybe, maybe it's the times we've had,
The lazy days and the crazes and the fads,
Maybe it's our sweetness,
But we're trash, you and me,
We're the litter on the breeze,
We're the lovers on the street,
Just trash, me and you,
It's in everything we do,
It's in everything we do...
Is there room for another ?
A poem I wrote inspired by melancholia, tinted with despair, and a touch loneliness...
Alassinvane
Raw, when your van rolls w/some new man,
Like an oxen, every hour becomes new with you,
me like a kitten and her feeble mew,
To fight this war we'll use even a worm, every eve,
on every avenue, we hold them for ransom,
So that when we err,
Some scum in some crease like a nervous
cocoon,
Shooting cannons from his saucer,
Like arrows that scour,
breaks this noose like a razor
When her fertile zone becomes itself,
it is not without reverence this sorceress
shall amaze, her wares and her curves
although never scarce,
we are weak not to snooze
under her caress,
And we sleep in the sewer when we undress,
like a wax museum our coma shall sense
there is no reason to measure
her golden vase
Or censure what arrears we try to recover
now with success
Its humerous these assurances
that we consume like cocoa
Its convex, like Morocco an uncomon
occurence that shall nevermore
be our successor
With romance we swarm, and the craze
of our heart is arson
No stash of amorous aroma,
maroon announcements of sameness,
reversing the measure of the lack of revenue..
Romance shall speak nonsense into the cavernous soul,
Serene this caravan of desire, now concave,
Venomous, onerous, scorned, sonorous, with reverence...
I was gonna say something wise but Im a little too blue, slightly upset....
I would really like to jump in a snowbank but all the snow melted...
Do you have any more pics of snow?
Katrina
SUICIDEGIRL
Sweden
JAN 08, 2006 05:37 AM