hate is a strong word

I've spent the last thee months wondering if I should create a new blog and give no one the link. My friend does this. I think it's kind of stupid (she won't even tell me the link), so I'm not sure why the idea interests me.
It's hard to start something new when there is one in working order, but I feel like it's just covered too much time!

Womp womp.

High School Claudia

GOSH!  Being home, ya know?
My last month in Boston I was starting to feel guilty because everyone was acting so emotional and I felt so stone faced. Of course it was strange to be graduating, and I would be moving a lot farther than most of my roommates and friends, but I was pretty casual about it. My last week there I was trying to remember the last time I had really cried and I couldn't. (Normal occurrence for a lot of boys, not so with the lady friends I hang out with.) I decided it was probably in January, which felt like ages ago. I thought about how in high school I used to cry all the time! I mean every day I would be crying about something! Of course in high school I was a lot more emotional in general, so I try to dismiss this comparison.

Or so I thought!

I've only been home a few days and I've cried every day! How old am I? (22!) It's noon and I've already cried today, how is this possible? I guess there's something about being home that really affects me. Family drama has been high. My mother is flying to Spain on Monday to see her family and a lot has been going on. I also had an upsetting series of dreams last night where both of my grandmothers passed away and my nanny job e-mailed me to say they were going to stick with their nanny from last summer--checked my e-mail this morning, not true. I still have the job.

It's just crazy to me that I went from feeling like I couldn't express emotions, and now I'm all emotional and babbling to my friends and making long distance phone calls and sobbing about my feelings while I hear about my friend's much more taxing day with real work life.

This morning my mom said she feels weird about me sleeping in my room where the internet router and all these chords are- she said she heard they give off bad energy or something. So I'm down with that theory.

It feels like I've been here a lot longer than I have. But today should be good. No more crying! I'm going to help my mom move stuff out of her classroom (because she is switching rooms) and then I'm going to get together with my friend. I told him "let's go somewhere beautiful" which should be an easy task around here.


love.love.love.

California Again

Two or three hours is too long to wait to see one of your oldest friends. I've been holding my breath for the past few hours, so I stepped outside to try to make a phone call. I decided for an unbiased perspective on my own life (okay everyone is somehow biased but you gotta start somewhere) I would call Riley (x3). But she didn't answer. I know she's busy with all her training in Georgia, and we haven't been able to reach each other for the past week or two. So then from Riley I thought of Ola, who I know is in Australia, but decided to try her phone anyways. I was surprised it rang, but when she answered she sounded flustered because its expensive, and she would skype me later. Fail. Fail.

I had walked out of the house barefoot, immediately got a splinter, plucked it out, and got to walking through sand. I was sitting on an old leather lazy boy. Before sitting down I poked it to coax out any spiders that may have been hiding. If they were, they remained hidden. After Ola hung up, I teared up a bit and continued sitting. What to do, what to do. Wait two or three hours I suppose, talk to one of my oldest friends.

I stood up and grabbed a long stick, wrote in the sand "THIS IS NOT BOSTON", hoping someone would read it and say "DUH".

Now onto another memory that is not Boston:
My dad pulled out a newspaper article from the LA Times of this puppet theatre we went to a few years ago: http://bobbakermarionettes.com/ Unfortunately, the article was all about how the place is potentially going out of business. Read the article here 

And it made me think of the business my parents had when I was younger. We lived in Northern Michigan (Petoskey), across the bay from touristy Harbor Springs. Heading up North on Highway 31 (towards Oden) my parents bought the property of an old gas station. After the tanks were removed, the building was painted blue and my Uncle Bob helped my dad put together some signs "The Christensen Gallery". In the small building to the right of the lot was the antique gallery, filled with collectables my dad found from all over. On the left, in the bigger building, was a bookstore and gallery. In addition to the gallery itself, it was at times home to the Christensen Puppet Theatre. My mom was the main engineer of the paper mache puppets, a whole crew of characters. Puppets for the holidays, the animals (like our dog Patsy), and the miscellaneous crazy guys full of personality.

Sometimes my parents took the theatre on the road, carrying the fold up stage to schools or ski resorts. But for private events, the show was at the Christensen Gallery. Silly voices, Santa and his Elves, reoccurring characters like "Sally" or "Bobby".

It's nice to think about.

love.love.love.

Highlights

I went up to Nina and Ali separately and asked them for sexy faces, now I think they may be the same person.

Okay I want to run some highlights of the month by you:

• Wallys Jazz- had a lady's night here- we all got supah smashed...snuck some nips in too jic, hung out with the band outback and smoked, chatted with the doorman
• Harpoon Brewery- finally made it! Didn't do the tour but did the tasting with some of my roomies
• Morgan, John, and Michael (Wolf) do standup for some alumni event at MIT, wish BC had an on campus bar! And my friends' standup? #killinit.
• Cinco de Mayo: I was working until 11 but my dear friend Ola showed up with some tequila and margarita mixes, so we got the ball rollin' on festivities and headed to our friends' place afterwards. Got our makeup-artist-coworker to doodle some staches and had the best time hangin' out in the kitchen and petting the cat. Creepiest pictures ever of us ladies in the staches, love it.
• Riley and I go to Roggies during finals- do the 4oz beer sample (they definitely gave us 2 or 3 oz samples) and got a private magic trick show! So bizarre. #Magicmansmws
• Evan opened for the Novel Ideas at Sam, Erin, and Alé's, place---it was a bummer when it got dark, but you could still make out the beautiful faces and the beautiful voices were loud and clear. First study day of finals, first day of no-college-classes
• Stinatnight: Justin's pet peeve as recorded, "When my mother eats only half of a donut and leaves the pathetic remains in the donut box for me to discover later in the day. I never thought my heart could be broken by my wonderful, loving mother, but whenever she doest this a small part of me dies inside." Justin I miss you, why did you have to leave so soon?
• Shaw "pub crawl" and senior toast: Went from Sean's room to the senior toast ("stole" 3 glasses of champagne) and Jack's room--- Colin and Ali and I went to St. Mary's lawn and met people at the Shaw house. Went on the roof and were busted by the RD---obviously was blown out of proportion but Ali and I got by and then Yuriy told on us the next day! WOW! "friend" huh? So then we met with the head of every stupid reslife department and they said they were going to hold our transcripts potentially, take our commencement ball tickets, etc! But in the end they just said if we were caught in the mods before graduation then we couldn't walk! What drama queens amiright?!
• The Beehive for dinner with my fam---this place is so good! Not only do they often have live music, but all the rotating artwork is great and I love the ambiance.
• Walked to Jim's Deli in Brighton Center (mmm) and then hung out on the 1905 roof- a beautiful and sunny day with great company. Wobbly ladders, old couch, sippin'. Made me sad to think about leaving.
• Walked to the Arboretum today, got sandwiches from City Feed, and Andrea and I walked from Brookline Village-another one of my favorite areas.

love.love.love.

Hey Big Trees

Hey big guys,

hey there trees!

We walked to you today,

you made our air fresh,

our smog-filled air, fresh.

Fresher than our pavement,

we know the forests smirk.

Hey big guys,

hey there trees!

There are peaks upon peaks of you,

rolling rivers of green,

birds swooping in and out.

Larger than our city blocks,

in our minds' smallest spaces.

And you!

Oh trees,

it's humid out and our bodies sweat,

but there you are existing.

And deep in the forests are people whose normal is this,

we barely escape our cities for a moment.

 

 

 

Tension, Dreams, Tidbits

Sometimes I find myself feeling really tense. Today I was especially aware of it when there was no music playing. I had just finished an episode of Mad Men (almost done with season two) and I went into the living room to check in, and make some food. Andrea was doing some work on the couch. There was no one else around, no music playing, just silent. I went into the kitchen and put some water on...hummed a little. By the time I was done cooking I worked up the courage to say "hey, do you care if i put music on?"--- and i put on otis redding. I was relieved to catch andrea smiling during one of the songs. reminded her of something from shovelhead the other night.

I have these moments a lot though...where I will feel really tense or on edge and feel like I don't know how to counteract the moment. And I think I take it pretty personally if other people don't notice the tension, or maybe just aren't bothered. Feeling like I'm tip toeing. It makes me wonder what normal interactions are, or if my interactions are all normal and sometimes I over think it.

Last night in my dream Morgan was going blind. Only she was being really stubborn and wasn't admitting it...it was just pretty obvious and so I was trying to help her, but she didn't really want help (but she walked blatantly through some caution tape by the bus stop). I guess she was wearing sunglasses because that would make her pretending more believable.

Also was fighting in a Harry Potter duel of sorts. It was joking-not-joking. No one was using any of the seriously killing spells, but it was a very real thing and we were in a hallway of classrooms. And I got nervous because all I could remember was wingardium leviosa (useless) and expeliarmus, which was just annoying everyone. So I locked the door to take a breather but whoever my "partner" was in the room called me out on cheating. The spell I remember relying on for the rest of the dream was "swine's breath"... whose effectiveness is also in question.

My last dream was very sad.
I have trouble writing about things that I actually find sad. (Morgan your blindness is very sad to me! But that was also a silly dream.)
There was a dog who was really hungry and skinny,
I can't even finish, dogs in distress make me feel upset.

------------------------------------------------------------------
In other news. Finally handed in my 25 page paper today, feel relatively good about it, and I think my ten minute presentation on it went well. Also got a bunch of library materials out for my next paper.
Yesterday was the annual zbc bbq at the faculty supervisor's house in Sommerville. It was great, it always is. She has an awesome yard space in the back that slopes downwards into a opening area where there was a tetherball pole set up. (Quick anecdote, I played a lot in 5th grade-middle school but yesterday when I played I was pretty terrible.) They have a treehouse, and a little guest house thing they turned into a hang out room with a jukebox that plays great songs for free! Other weekend highlights? Cinco de Mayo employee (some) party after work Saturday night, mustaches.

Just a few things on my mind,
love.love.love.

Been looking at old photos today

Above: Zombie Aires
Below: HP



Above: Girl group pic from high school

Below: Laura and Dorothy racing:

smartphones

Yesterday I watched this trailer for Naqoyqatsi.
I had never heard of it, but it came up as a suggestion on Netflix so I checked it out-
of course it confirmed all of my worst nightmares and now I don't think I really want to see it.
No nature, only technology, war always.

If you have an extreme movie plot about the dreadful future, and are looking for someone to convince... I'm your gal.
I've been feeling especially negative lately, probably due to my classes. Let's see, Comparative Children's Rights- we go around the room and each say what our research paper is going to be, and our teacher jokes with each person, "is your topic depressing too?"

OF COURSE ITS DEPRESSING- we are taking a class on children's rights!
My environmental seminar isn't much more uplifting, it's an environmental seminar at a school of anti-environmentalists.
I know I represent the extreme in this case, so I'm about to let y'all in on a secret.
I don't think people realize how much I truly hate smart phones. You think you know, because I whine about it, but I bite my tongue 90% of the time.
So here we go:

If you're subtle about your smartphone ownership, or can put it down for great lengths of time, then I will look the other way and it won't get to me. But let's face it, the large majority of smartphone users do not use their phones in a controlled manner. And it drives me insane. If you have a smartphone and my standards make me think it's excessive- I look down upon you. I think lesser of you. I sound excessive but I mean it from the bottom of my heart!

The fact that you need to look up all directions on your phone, when you could easily use your eyes or just ask an information booth (that's their job, and I prefer human opinions and interactions) - then why do otherwise? At least if you get lost the human way, you're having an adventure. If your screen is wrong, you start to get frustrated and stumble and try to apologize on behalf of it, then you're just staring at a few inches of screen and not living in the present.

[I am really thankful for my roadtrip with Riley and Ola- they both have internet on their phone but we all quickly agreed to not use it for directions- Riley's mom gave us a map of the NE states and we used that for pretty much everything (sometimes we picked up a more detailed map in a state-specifically TN and LA). We got on and off at random exits, drove through old towns, ghost towns, hidden towns...]

Most likely to be continued


love.love.love.

Verdant

Verdant

Massachusetts College of Art and Design

Verdant is an exhibition that deals with the relationship between humans and the natural environment. It showcases the contemporary artists Binh Danh, Paula Hayes, Tim Knowles, and the Workingman Collective. Together, they take an active role in the environment by using living organisms rather than simply capturing images of them. These artists recognize the inevitable interaction between humans and nature but do not cause destruction to the environment; they use techniques that allow plants to continue growing, unharmed. In displaying this exhibit to the public, free of charge, MassArt has entered into a contract to not only supervise the artists’ work but in some cases, to take care of it.

Binh Danh was born in Vietnam in 1977, but moved to the United States shortly afterward. His collection of prints, Military Foliage, reflects Vietnam’s collective memory of the Vietnam War. His prints vary in size and fill a wall of the exhibition space, with a simple bench in front of them. Each print shows a blown up image of a leaf set aside a solid black background. While in the past Danh has placed images of portraits onto these leaves, Military Foliage is much more abstract and shows monochrome camouflage patterns. While this series made in 2010 employ a very simple pattern that leave much up to the observer, it references the relationship between the Vietnamese who used foliage to hide in their environment, which was then bombed by the US military using Agent Orange.

However these are not simply photographs of leaves; the media for each image is chlorophyll print and resin. This technique of chlorophyll printing is one unique to Binh Danh, having stumbled across the idea of using photosynthesis after observing the affect a running garden hose had on a lawn. He places a negative on a leaf, puts it in a contact printing frame, and leaves it in the sun for days or weeks (depending on the piece) leaving the final product completely up to chance. The idea that nature has a role in art is one employed by each artist in Verdant.

For instance, Paula Hayes’ exhibit is not a product of plants used in the process, but plants are the final product. Here she exhibits a series of over fifteen terrariums, laid across a long, white, wooden surface. Each terrarium is shaped differently and ranges in size, approximately a foot in length and half a foot in height. They are transparent, round, and oblong, with an opening at some point in the glass. Inside these hand blown vessels are different living plant species mixed with rocks and bits of gems and crystals.

Paula Hayes knows that an owner of her piece not only will have a relationship with it, but also must. Her artwork cannot be left unattended for great lengths of time, for it is as living as its owner. The Workingman Collective takes a similar approach in its piece Swing. This steel swing set is 108" x 110" x 115" in dimension and uses fir, powdercoat, clay pots, and the assorted household plants that fill them. An evolving group of people in itself, The Workingman Collective invites its audience to be one of many that will sit on the swing and engage in this piece of art. The swing is supported by red steel poles that have pots jutting off of them at different lengths and heights. The plants used are meant to be recognizable to the participant, and remind him or her that nature does not need to be separated from our everyday routine. Plants can be a part of any home, a message that Paula Hayes communicates in her terrariums. However, the Workingman Collective goes farther than the personal space of one’s home and brings the idea of art in public spaces to the forefront through something as interactive as a swing.

Tim Knowles’ series, Tree Drawings, are large pieces of blank paper with ink patterns. He spent time in the Arnold Arboretum (Jamaica Plain, Boston) and had the trees participate in the artistic process: he attached pens to the tips of branches and allowed them to splay ink onto the set-up stands of paper. In this way the trees become the artist, expressing an “emotion” or action tied to a natural element: wind. Beside these prints are occasional C-print photographs of these trees in action with the work.

Knowles’ work, the product of a collaboration quite different from Swing, causes the onlooker to wonder why nature does not usually speak for itself. Knowles allows the object he studies to tell its own story, rather than explicitly impose a meaning of his own. This theme of nature as a storyteller is one employed by each artist. Pieces such as Swing invite the participant to ask, why don’t we see more art like this in urban settings?

In areas of San Francisco, strangers have illegally thrown simple wooden swings across the branches of trees that border sidewalks. For a few days passerby use them, until officials take down the swings. Are these strangers, and the artists in Verdant, pleading for society to reconnect to the land? These works of art do not merely capture an image, they force the artists to engage with their environment. In the instances of the terrariums and Swing, the observer must also engage with the environment through caring for plants. In an age when the natural environment faces daily degradation, these artists call for art that limits its negative impact on the earth. While some of the artists may still use chemicals and dyes, their impact is minimal compared to human creations that are wholly estranged from nature. Verdant, exhibited January 30^th-March 10^th, ,2012, will live on beyond the space provided by MassArt through the caretaking of individuals and the minds of the viewers who must now reconsider how society relates to its environment.

Little Bat

Today when I was walking home from work, I passed by a plastic cup on the side of the road. It was raining a bit, and I thought that the dark shape inside of it might have been a turtle. This obviously excited me because cute little turtles remind me of people I know, and I thought it'd be a nice chance to check up on a friend.
But it wasn't a turtle! It was a little bat, and I raised an eyebrow to look at it, the rain coating its small fur coat.

"Bat...? Are you okay?" No response
"Little bat! What's wrong?" I moved the cup gently and afterwards the bat gave me a little wiggle.
"Bat, what's going on?" No response
I then had this moral dilemma- if there is a little bat in a plastic cup, chances are it was not there by choice. So then did someone
a) put their pet bat there to hang out for a bit, in a plastic cup
b) find the bat and rescue it...in a plastic cup
c) hurt the bat and then leave it in a plastic cup?

Oh god it made me feel so anxious. So then should I
a) call animal control to save him- but maybe the person in scenario b already did
b) leave it there in case of scenario a
c) rescue the bat if scenario c was true

goshhh I just kept staring at him and asking him what was wrong. So then I moved the bat to the corner of the building where it seemed to be out of the rain. Do bats like rain? God what if it gets pneumonia-
I broke off a piece of my sandwich from work. A small piece of chicken because don't bat eats bugs so isn't chicken similar? And a small piece of bread in case that's easier for him to digest.

And then I thought about how I was a human, potentially interrupting the natural process of a bat's life-

but no natural process in a bat's life should land him in a plastic cup!
God I'm just another human that made this poor wild bat an urban bat!


I thought of Morgan, when she stepped on the chipmunk over the summer, and tried to resuscitate it... why are there sidewalks and why do both animals and people walk on them!

The world is a scary place.

Save the bats.
(And chipmunks)
(And my turtle friends)


love.love.love.

Why You Make Me Sad

I Don't Remember Your Laugh

Sometimes trying to think of all the opposites is really hard

Dear Friend,
I am writing to tell you, that yes, I am! Today I re-ordered all of my clothes so that the blouses and skirts hang by length in the front and the coats are far out of reach. I pulled out my daybook and I penciled in each hour next week, I've got time between 3 and 4pm if but only for a walk-and-talk meeting.

I re-listened to all of my musical library in order of album release year, and I've filled my walls with the selling points to all the speeches I'd like to give. Beethoven still bores me but the new Jay Z album was a huge hit; I'm into the hits now- any suggestions?

I loved that Rihanna single when it came out, but I'm kinda over that craze. Always hard to get over a single like that though, am I right?

Crazy for you



love.love.love.

If I tell you I'm being a bitch then it makes me NOT a bitch!

I hate being in a bad mood.
I'm going to blame it on the dreams I cannot remember from last night.

Though I'm sure watching two (Pretty Young Girls and Restrepo) depressing documentaries doesn't help.
I'm addicted to the depressing elements of reality!

(But I finally have finished one of the ten books I chose to read for my new year's resolution. And I'm almost done with the second)

Today I am a prickly cactus.

love.love.love.

Lucid Dreams

I'm in the [lucid dream] club-
last night I was in a room, there were two people standing on opposite sides of the room.
I don't know what made this dream the exception, but next to one person I noticed a light switch-
I know this is something people use to turn a dream lucid (or is the dream lucid before I notice the switch?). I walked over to it and was ready to switch it, to see if the lights change, when the person tried distracting me. He was trying to scare me, to prevent me from my mission, but I forced myself to reach out quickly and flip the switch. Nothing happened, this is how I knew I was finally lucid dreaming.

Since January I've been having such strange dreams nightly. (The other night I was kidnapped.) The majority of them have been unpleasant, and nearly all have been strangely realistic situations. (I did finally have that cliché dream of my teeth falling out- for which there are far too many interpretations.)
Many of them consisted of conversations between myself and others that have been so realistic, I started to feel I was on the edge of having lucid dreams.

Last night after I tried to flip the light switch, and confirmed my dream state, I turned to face the person who had been trying to distract me. I decided "I will push him over now" and placed a finger on his chest, and lightly pushed back. He very slowly fell flat on his back like a plank of wood.

When I wake up and do not feel the need to get out of bed, I often choose to slip back into a dream. Sometimes I choose to do this with unpleasant dreams, just out of curiosity to see where they'll go. In this sense I do not feel in control of what I am dreaming, but more like I'm reading along with a story.
What if I don't want to read along? What if I want to write the story?

Today my friend told me I am supposed to use this opportunity to do crazy things like "have sex with Obama", but those aren't the dreams I am trying to perfect. There is another man that is often in my dreams, and it is his presence that I want to keep.
The last dream we had together took place in New York. We were wandering and visiting, but he was distracted. He seemed only partly present, the rest of him vaguely making plans to see other friends while he was in the city. I felt offended though he was doing little to offend. Why could I not hold his attention? Was I a slave to the dream, and its storyline predetermined?
If "this world is based on rationality and logic", then why would he take such a rational role in my dream---dreamland felt hardly dreamlike.
Tell me Steven LaBerge, how can I hold his attention, where does his gaze wander to?
Is it that my body prevents me from reaching the 5th sleep stage, denying me the opportunity to control my dream? It may be that controlling it would be futile if it does not change "my waking state".
I want to be a Tibetan Buddhist, and allow myself to practice "dream yoga".
I want to slip into a dream tonight and have him in it, but if I'm forcing him to be there, is that strange? If I can perfect lucid dreams, I want to use them to reach for his hand, go visit beautiful places, maybe have the courage to place a kiss on him.

Then again, I guess sex with Obama would be cool too.


love.love.love.

you're my golden footprint

Yesterday I finished the Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera. In this book, one of the main characters has an ongoing affair with a woman who is having an affair with a married man named Franz. After Franz and the woman, Sabina, end their affair, she continues to have a strong impact on his life. Of Sabina, Franz says, "Sabina's physical presence was much less important than he had suspected. What was important was the golden footprint, the magic footprint she had left on his life and no one could ever remove".

I've been thinking a lot about that passage in the past few days, and I think you're a bit like that for me. Due to the nature of our distance, I see you so infrequently that the majority of our interactions take place from afar. Actually, the majority of our interactions may take no effort on your part, but are rather thoughts I have that involve you, or thoughts of what I perceive to be your daily life.

Sometimes after I've enjoyed a really great meal, or had a pleasant interaction, I instinctively think of you. I think of how you too would have liked that moment. If I spend time by myself and feel really calm or productive, I imagine you being proud of me. But this doesn't have to mean that you're my raison d'être. I'm at an age that I think it would be looked down upon for you to be. But I can't help having you in mind.

So I was thinking that maybe there is comfort in the distance, though I do despise it so. It becomes the norm and maybe that's why the short periods are so hard to deal with. In the morning I can picture you waking up, having tea or sitting around. I can imagine how you sit with your computer or how you yawn. I was thinking that maybe there is magic in the images I have. So that when I do see you, it's strange that I don't have to guess, I can just see how you act...and maybe that throws me off.

There is of course, the thought that I am wrong. I can become so sure of how I think you would act in a given scenario, without knowing if you would in fact act that way. Yet I believe myself to have the right impression, which can be dangerous. But I feel that strange mysterious connection to you the way Franz thinks of Sabina. It's a motivation to enjoy something as you would want me to.

You play a very important role in my life. I'd like to think it's understood and that you can understand my thoughts from where you are. Never far.

love.love.love.

Unveiling

You painted me as an angel.

With your flowery language

my being was that of another world-

sun spots in photos,

images floating,

dancing,

drifting along.

We drifted far away,

abandoned the others

and made this world foreign.

You held me in the tips of your fingers,

perched gently,

balanced.

Then as we leaped in the air,

I slipped.

There is no slow motion,

and our reaction was earthly;

like a porcelain statuette,

your angel fell to the earth.

I shattered upon contact,

and was bare before you.

Embarrassed,

you saw I was no angel,

no saving grace,

no post mortem miracle.

Why?

The first time I heard Why? I was driving with Nate on the way back from Montaña de Oro. It was a song playing on KCPR and we wrote down the song on a random page in the back of my journal. Actually, Nate wrote it down. I think he wrote gemini birthday song, something of the sort. He also wrote down rjd2 which must have been the next song on the radio. And he drew a face with a very french looking mustache. I was driving. Later I think I tried to google or youtube the song, but I didn't think I found it. I'm not sure if I just didn't recognize it, or if I couldn't find the right song. It was when you gave me Why? on a cd mix that I thought I was hearing the artist for the first time. It's strange that you hooked me with that song because it was random and atypical of the ones usually on your mixes. How did you do that? Why? is one of my favorite artists.

I like Why? because I consider him very fatalistic. I'm not sure if I consider him pessimistic. The lyrics are often morbid, reference death, martyrs, pain, age. I always think they're spot on. Sometimes when I sing along I realize how morbid some of the lines are. I feel like singing along is a test or a dare to say it, to admit it might be true.

We love and hate like the tatooed fist,
We have to change if we're going to stay together
'Cause I say rain when it's only a drizzle,
I want to kiss like taffy-
Hump gentle on a bed of nails.
Do you still pray about me
in your quiet time?
When we're on different sides of the globe
I thought we'd keep our veins tangled
like a pair of mic cables,
I don't want to dance with your shadow no more.
There is no grace in act five
I wanna do the dirt
like the dead leaves do