We look forward & know better.

That's all there is to it.

Looking forward never really gets us anywhere, but we look there regardless & all the while we know better & ignore the fact that we do.

The things we're wanting to happen won't. Fantasy is always a few steps ahead of reality & those things we place faith in aren't ever going to come to fruition no matter how long we will the phone to ring ... just not going to happen & eventually I think it will stop.

I'll stop hoping.

Maybe it forces us to grow up. Eventually we all grow up & come to terms with the fact that life might just throw shit at us forever. Falling stars don't do any good & breath is wasted on hours full of whispered faith. We somehow come to terms with the fact that being pure of heart doesn't get us anywhere but hurt.

That's when we stop with the wishing & hoping & lying to ourselves & we get over it & live for other things.

Simpler things like new shoes & weekly television programs & Tuesday night drink specials.

Disgustingly boring things.

Things we can count on.

That will be there without fail, that we can believe in because we don't give a shit about them & they haven't got any tangible hold on our emotions.

Stop believing.

No matter what Journey may say ...

Just stop fucking believing & maybe going to sleep won't hurt so much.

Maybe looking forward won't be so bad when we know that there's nothing to really look forward to.

I could listen to Ryan forever.

I could forget the hum of Guinness & the buzz of Seagrams & the whoosh of blood ringing in my ears as soon as my eyes close & just revel in this truth that spills out of those songs.

For such a good night it ended in nothing but a frown for me.

Maybe he'll never bring much but frowns & maybe it's time to accept that.

I'm far too unattractive while frowning.

Bad at hiding it.

Could listen to this forever.

"i can't fight your blues 'cause i know i'll lose what's left of my mind & i can't win, but for you i will try ... oh my baby blue"

Christ! No denying genius when something can make you feel so rotten & gorgeous at the same time.

he was in san francisco this past week ... i missed it, tickets were sold out & i was all prepared to go down by myself just to feel this with an unimagineable amount of intensity.

wrong.

rotten.

gorgeous.

remind me not to write & drink.

i loathe true love.

might be in bed already but my sheets are in the dryer & i can't wait for the whole clean-sheets-meet-freshly-shaven-legs thing that will happen when i crawl on in.

i don't have to work tomorrow.

i should stop drinking.

should stop thinking.

should just fucking stop.

:rocking the headphones: Ryan Adams ~ City Rain, City Streets

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