my first morning action was to crank up some dashboard confessional.
"i'm talented at breathing, especially exhaling."
pat must be home.
while he slaved over a hot kitchen stove to make the family happy with crepes and a fruit sauce, i rocked the postal service.
"i'll be the platform shoes, undo what heredity's done to you. you won't have to strain to look into my eyes."
the lyrical masterpiece resonated in his absence.
check myspace. the home page advertises the likes of connor oberst and his bright eyes crew as well as as the postal service's silhouettes video.
"i've got a cupboard with cans of food, filtered water, and pictures of you."
it's madness. i've been sucked into an emotional black hole, and i fear that i won't be crawling back out for some time.
let us take a moment to mourn the death of any elements of cool i might have once posessed. rest in peace. kinda like helena does for my chemical romance. oh suck.
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