I put my thang down, flip it and reverse it.
I now own every single song that reminds me of my past. I no longer have to pray in hopes of hearing one of them again somewhere, I own them all. Songs I haven't listened to in years and years.
Namely, I Burn For You.
I fell asleep listening, with off images of my past creeping in front of my eyes. I'm sure I'm not remembering right... drug usage during college years really has scrambled my brain. Funny, the rational behind it during that time was to take some of my intelligence away. I'm pretty sure it worked.
See that? Off on some goddamn tangent or another. Derailed.
I don't want this song anymore. I don't want high drama, countless nights of nothing so long as someone somewhere is thinking of me. It's still a good song, I'm positive someone else could use it, so I'm giving it away. Not the song, but it's use. Someone else can have it.
. . .
It's funny how pieces of my mom's plan have been leaking out. I'll be sitting at the kitchen table, and she'll wander by and say, "Ron [my mom's fiance] found a house, I guess." And then she'll go about doing what ever it was she was going to do.
Yesterday on the way home from dinner, she tells me she's not going back to the mountains after Christmas. That she's coming back here. And there goes my quiet.
This morning while I was making muffins, she says, "Ron really wants me to move back. He wants to get married on January third in Missouri. I told him that if he wants me to move, he's going to have to pay for it, and come out here to help me."
I know my mother the way I know myself. The rule of thumb is that you turn into your parents... don't get me wrong, you have a certain amount of control. But, if I'm turning into my mother, and I was put into this situation, I'd be moving to Kansas at the end of December.
And all I have to say is, "We're going to Plan Escape, control."
. . .
Everyone has an escape plan. If you reach way, way back into your head, you know what I'm talking about. Even if you're living with your parents, you've got a back up. Always.
My back up is California. Back up is Grandma's on the wrong side of the tracks.
I'm behind the game.
. . .
I'd like to map my life out and figure out all of the equations. My brain is on over drive, and it will take me years to figure this shit out.
The only thing I can manage to get, and I'm stretching, is that I'm finally ready to start with a clean slate.
When you're sick to death of second best, pet
Why should the morning always find you unimpressed?
Is your love like a button?
You can't stop pushing it?
Oh this all night longing can be such a long time