Dreaming of Broadway, waking to Vaudeville

the end is the beginning is the end

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 03:36:00 +0000

i'm moving my blog to a new site. I'm in a different place now than I was when I started this and i figure it's time for a change. the new one is at xvaudevillainx.tumblr.com . I'll always leave this one up incase you want to reminisce.

i left my conscience pressed between the pages of the bible in the drawer, what did it even do for me i say? it never calms me when i'm down...

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 03:03:00 +0000

its nice to know that after all thats happened things can still be like they used to, that you can still walk right by and not even acknowledge me. i guess you had your reasons, i mean, my friends were there, they were probably doing some hoodlum type things or whatever it is they do. but don't you miss me just a little bit? when i call you and you're always doing work isnt there a little part of you that wants to stop being so damned principled and just talk to me? maybe i never really understood you and i was just fooling myself, but i don't believe that. you're far too good for me. that is all there is to it.

my tiffany blews

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Mon, 23 Feb 2009 21:20:00 +0000

hello there angela martin

telenovela

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Tue, 17 Feb 2009 05:53:00 +0000

hemingway could write a story in six words, I'm giving myself a paragraph.

There was once a man and a woman. The man was truly just a boy with a career and the woman was really a dreamer but a pragmatist by day. Together they lived alone in a decadently modern queen sized bed in a New England town populated by whites and those of a white disposition. On those certain occasions that it was convenient they would have conversations and meals and make love. They never spoke of how miserable they were. Their love was tacit, but very much existent. When they reached the appropriate age they had children, two girls and a boy, who were all bright and attractive, excelled in their education, and went on to lead fulfilling lives. As they aged they became more quiet and more in love. They indulged themselves by buying a new king sized bed. They became old and one day the woman was stricken ill and died some time shortly after. They man became sullen and although he no longer felt comfortable in it, he died in his sleep in their king sized bed several months later. Upon reaching heaven he was greeted by his wife who ran to embrace him and gasped "Darling, I'd been so lonely without you."

fuck ben roethelsberger

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Mon, 02 Feb 2009 04:47:00 +0000

this is it, kid
all the stories were true when they lied to you
this is true love
this is the catharsis of heaven and hell
i'm your favorite enemy
i'm a mick and a dago all in one
i'm sinatra and brando
i'm the packers and the niners
you're my league
the only reason i exist
love is smiling as your house burns down
love is one part happiness
and ten parts misery
love is a faulknerized hemingway novel
love is futile war and meaningless friendship
love is every high school movie
drinking, fucking, drinking, happy ending
love is 151 on an empty stomach
and a hangover from hell
you warned me once
of everything
of how fucked up this would make me
but love is ignoring all the warnings
love is pure brutal honesty
trust me, i wouldnt lie about it

one time my dad cought me a horseshoe crab, and i asked him if throwin it back into the sea would bring our love back

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Sat, 27 Dec 2008 20:57:00 +0000

i know, i suck, i'm a useless piece of shit,
but even though sometimes i wish i wasn't
i'm in love with you,
and when i close my eyes
i'm tracing patterns on the small of your back
and your ohsosoft hair is entangling me
tying me in sailors knots
keeping me wrapped around you forever.
but i'm scared,
cus i went to hell and back last time
i cant do it again.
so here's my new years resolution,
'I want to scream I love you from the top of my lungs,
but I'm afraid that someone else will hear me'
this year i'm not afraid.

----
one more bonus to close out 2008
heres the song i recorded with zeke for you, it'll be on itunes in a month or so and you can own a little part of me.

tentatively titled "Evander Holyfield and the Secret of My Success"

v1
sometimes i wonder why you're still around
i think you wonder that too
i hide my cocaine heart
beneath coffee ground wit
but you'll sniff me out eventually

chorus
press me between the pages of your favorite book
wear me in a locket, that you're father gave you
melt me in a candle, take a deep breath
i'll be the scent that you can't sleep without

v2
keep me posted on whatever you decide
cause i've made a record
of every time i chose to lie
it reads like a calendar
you can keep it as my will

change will come, but i will never believe in anything again

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 06:25:00 +0000

"It's hard to wake up
When the shades have been pulled shut
This house is haunted
It's so pathetic
It makes no sense at all.
I'm ripe with things to say
The words rot and fall away.
If a stupid poem could fix this home
I'd read it every day.

So here's your holiday
Hope you enjoy it this time
You gave it all away
It was mine
So when you're dead and gone
Will you remember this night, twenty years now lost.
It's not right

Their anger hurts my ears
Been running strong for seven years
Rather than fix the problems, they never solve them
It makes no sense at all
I see them every day
We get along so why can't they?
If this is what he wants and this is what
she wants
Then why is there so much pain?"

i'm sorry if i've been distant lately
i've had a lot on my mind.
it was about this time three years ago my parents split up.
i've never really talked about it with anyone.
a part of me wants to desperately,
but the rest of me would rather pretend it didn't happen.
you talk about the old me,
but you never really knew the old me.
i guess i was always a little abrasive,
but before it happened, i wasn't like this.
i'm just a statistic now.
i'm just the byproduct of one of 50% of american marriages that fail.

if it's not love it's the bomb that'll bring us together

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Mon, 01 Dec 2008 02:39:00 +0000

sometimes i wonder why you're still around,
i think you wonder that too.
you've said it yourself,
i revel in the things you hate.
i hope you're not here because you feel obligated to be
'I damaged him, i have to fix him'
but I'm not your charge.
i think i know the real reason you're here.
because two and a half years later
I'm still begging you to be.
and i know its wearing thin,
and yes its true
that sometimes i lie
when i know the truth sucks worse,
and sometimes i exaggerate
when im not good enough on my own.
but i'm betting at this point
that you can read me better than him,
and you can see right through me,
inside im just a scarred kid.

smile.
you light up the whole world.

you're the girl of my dreams, and a pistol it seems, but you shoot me straight and true. time to lay down my bets, honey i put my money on you

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 01:55:00 +0000

happy birthday to me,
jake barnes, master of apathy.
captain ahab, driven only by aggression.
holden caulfield, just a little bit crazy.
joe kavalier, angry at the world.
jay gatsby, hopelessly self-absorbed.
its clear that all my favorite authors love to write about me.

"They would not find me changed from him they knew — Only more sure of all I thought was true."

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 01:28:00 +0000

this times different
the feeling is foreign.
i've been hiding the cocaine of my heart
beneath the coffee grounds of my sarcasm.
i don't want him to hate me,
i don't want to hate him,
i don't want anyone to hate him,
but you don't want to believe that.
robert frost was born in san francisco
just like me,
but he left for new england,
and all i can do is wish new england would come to me.
he said famously
"nothing gold can stay."
its strange that he was writing about us so long ago.

You know that you are not alone, I need you like water in my lungs

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Wed, 05 Nov 2008 06:28:00 +0000

"Consider this a letter that I never sent
However inconsiderate it seems
Do you still consider me,
consider me the boy you laughed with
or that you learned to live without?... I suck,
I know I'm late,
I know you waited

You wouldn't get me on the phone
And you couldn't make me not alone

My phone bills stacked up by my bedside,
with your picture, you're looking surprised
You're what makes New England so great
My island nights are all spent dying
Wait for summer to become wrought with lips,
my wishful thinking"

i've got troubled thoughts and a self-esteem to match, what a catch

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Mon, 03 Nov 2008 05:33:00 +0000

i can't let this go.
she says i should let you go.
i withdraw again within my books.

"All that most maddens and torments; all that stirs up the lees of things; all truth with malice in it; all that cracks the sinews and cakes the brain; all the subtle demonisms of life and thought; all evil, to crazy Ahab, were visibly personified, and made practically assailable in Moby-Dick. He piled upon the whale's white hump the sum of all the general rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; and then, as if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart's shell upon it."

Eram quod es, eris quod sum

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Mon, 03 Nov 2008 02:06:00 +0000

I am not an angel or a god,
a prince or even a lord.
i am in no way noble
or remotely divine,
and my morals are questionable at best.
so how do you expect me to do this?
decide the undecidable.
this is what happens when an unstoppable force
meets an immovable object.

my mind is is trudging along,
dropped out of the race,
stumbling along the sidelines.
and i can't even look at you without hurting
so my eyes flick to the door,
praying she'll save me,
that someone will show me the answers
give me a sign,
make up my mind.

i've taken myself off course too many times now,
so take the reigns,
i'll be anything you want me to be.
i wasn't lying when I said I'd never be over you,
but you're such a big part of me,
maybe i'll just never get over myself.
they say i'm gifted,
but im still just a scared kid.

she's beautiful when the rain damps her hair
and the fog of my breath makes her eyes gleam like headlights.
and i want to be her tough guy - sam spade
but i'm in love with you
still not sure about her.

I will never end up like him (behind my back I already am), keep a calendar this way you will always know

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 02:50:00 +0000

I am shiva, the god of death.
i could take this opportunity to fly a couple metaphor kites
but we both know they'd just get lost in the clouds.
sometimes i joke about my fascination with alcohol,
usually you mock me for it.
but no matter how i justify it,
it doesn't hurt so much when im drunk.
and you'll never know how much it hurts,
you'll only ever know one side of of this story.
so please don't tell me im not trying
i'm just scared,
i've lost you so many times
i had the golden fucking ticket
and i lost it.
i don't know why i hide within myself
don't force me out just yet.
today, alfred, you get to tell me I told you so.

sitting out dances on the wall, trying to forget everything that isn't you, im not going home alone, cus i don't do too well on my own

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Fri, 12 Sep 2008 05:12:00 +0000

ah, drinking again.
time was i thought nothing could stop me from being straight edge
turns out all it took was a little loneliness and a healthy dose of heartbreak.
time was i told you i hadn't changed a bit
but me two years ago wouldn't recognize me now.
time was i thought i'd never love again...
alcohol has a much lower freezing point
which is why it feels warm going down your throat
but i guess its also why i feel so cold hearted.
f. scott fitzgerald had more potential as a writer in the 20th century than most people ever do
but he also had a wife whom he loved to death, quite literally.
i wish i wasnt like this
you loved me once when i wasn't like this
but the truth is i've had more conversations with jack daniels in the last month
than we have had in a year.
strange thing is i've finally learned to love every wicked thing about myself
cus 'I don't care what you think, as long as its about me..."

fuck it
i've found happiness in misery.

And when these words are found, let it be known that God's penmanship has been signed with a language called love

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Mon, 09 Jun 2008 06:00:00 +0000

just because i haven't posted in a bit doesn't mean its getting easier,
it just means my creativity is dying along with my relationship with you.

if it can be broke then it can be fixed

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Sun, 01 Jun 2008 22:54:00 +0000

fell in love today, with a band
called someone still loves you boris yeltzin
then i realized i was still just falling in love with you.

has this gotten any easier for you?

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Tue, 27 May 2008 01:20:00 +0000

when asked to explain how to write, ernest hemingway said "all you have to do is write one true sentence. write the truest sentence you know."

all he's ever seen me as is a homewrecker, maybe if he'd just read one of these sentences he'd realize that all i want is the best for you.

once the drugs are done, then I feel like dying

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Tue, 20 May 2008 17:49:00 +0000

I'm in pain right now
at least jack daniels understands me.

is he happier now, knowing that i'm miserable?

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Tue, 20 May 2008 07:38:00 +0000

"fill my heart with song, let me sing forever more
you are all i long for, all i worship and adore
in other words, please be true

in other words, i love you"

i dont know what to say

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Thu, 15 May 2008 04:32:00 +0000

i think i should stop writing for a while,
things are just too messed up right now.

I wish I could write like this

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Mon, 12 May 2008 17:53:00 +0000

"for sale: baby shoes, never worn."

love's not a grave, it won't decay on you

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Mon, 12 May 2008 05:57:00 +0000

baby, this one's for you.
you're the may to my sammy,
the ava to my frank.
you're the autumn to my new york,
the wind to my chicago.
you're the kavalier to my clay,
the catherine barkley to my frederic henry.
i love you like an infant loves the world
and like all great writers love alcohol.
i love you not as romeo loved juliet,
but rather as caesar loved rome.
i love you like...
i love you.

champagne for my real friends, real pain for my sham friends

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Fri, 09 May 2008 07:16:00 +0000

loving you is like having a pebble stuck in your shoe, ignoring it doesnt make it go away but if you try to get rid of it you just end up pushing it in deeper.

in that situation i would usually just take off my shoe but im not sure how that would play into the metaphor.

can't you see the grass is greener where it's raining

noreply@blogger.com (andy) — Sun, 27 Apr 2008 07:53:00 +0000

let me preface this post by saying that it's been a rough couple weeks.
we had a good talk and i should feel better because of it
but now i have to face all these feelings that i pretended didn't exist.
not that i ever forgot that you mean the world to me,
i just might have forgotten how much the world means to me.
i would give up my sense of sarcasm (and you know how important that is)
just to fix the mistakes i made in october, but november came and passed
let alone december, january and every other month that i've wasted being a subpar friend.

frank sinatra (yes, i know this is getting old) spent his whole life obsessing over ava gardner, the love of his life that slipped through his fingers.
maybe i can grow up to be just like him.