Heh.

I know I love you like the million times I never said

Something was bound to go right sometime today
All these broken pieces fit together to make a perfect picture of us
It got cold and then dark so suddenly and rained
It rained so hard the two of us were the only thing
That we could see for miles and miles

And in the middle of the flood I felt my worth
When you held onto me like I was your little life raft
Please know that you were mine as well
Drops of water hit the ground like God's own tears
And spread out into shapes like
Salad bowls and basins and buckets for bailing out the flood

As motionless cars rust on driveways and curbs
You take off your raincoat and stretch out your arms
We both laugh out loud and surrender to it
The sheer force of sky and the cold magnet Earth
 - Daybreak, Snow Patrol.

tell me that you want to dance, i want to feel your pulse on mine

Back in the day when I had an iPod before the bastard Movers and Packers stole it, I remember listening to A Hundred Million Suns on repeat. 

Oh stuff it, I've listened to it after like two months and everything is just so pretty. The album is all cloud-floaty. 

"When your eyes meet mine I lose simple skills like to tell you all I want is now."

In times like these I wish I could play an instrument because it makes me feel all stupid and inadequate to just SING it, you just feel more credible with a guitar.

And air-piano doesn't work anymore, I look like an ass. Likewise for air-guitar. And sometimes even lip-synching.

Dhur saala. If I want to sing a sixteen minute song by my favourite shoegazers, I SHALL AND I WILL AND WHILE I'M AT IT I WILL ALSO SING THE GUITAR RIFF FROM PLUG-IN-BABY LIKE IT'S A CARNATIC RAGA. 

Heehee.

i'm thinking you should ignore the innuendo

This is Grouse Lodge,a residential (the only residential) recording studio in Ireland. More importantly, this is where Snow Patrol recorded "The Planets Bend Between Us".
And this is also where Muse recorded "Absolution".
Okay, so apparently it has like, this swanky pool and this shiny health spa and stuff, and there's all this technicial shazam about how good the recording facilities are. There are separate acoustic rooms and all.
I'm not a musician.
But I'd light a fire in that fireplace when it's cold and dark we'll throw a rug over our feet and drink a little too much liquor the kind that gets to us slowly.
We'll get slurrier the world will be blurrier as the night wears on and at three in the morning we'll put on our boots and our fly-away scarves step out in the faint morning light.
With palms on the rough stone we'll find our way around a town we don't know shoes scraping on cobbled pathways electric bulbs in grimy mullioned windows the wind thrashing whistling through trees so tall tall tall.
Freezing noses red like traffic stop signs I see you through the fog of your cloudy breath.
I'm not a musician.
But.
We should make music!

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I need a decent winter and I need to get laid.
Well you're half correct.

"Take a Sad Song"

R2: "Death, among other things, results in lack of production of sperm. Or ova, depending on gender."

Now what logic in the world can possibly counteract that?

If you have me on Facebook, you would know by now that I've been OD-ing on the song Transatlanticism by Death Cab for Cutie. And if you're not on my Facebook, well you know now.
It's a depressing song. Morbid. Cold stone heart-types and everything.
Aha ki anondo.
Oh, and Venerable Senior Didi and Grand Poobah of All Things Unnecessary 's latest post made me think. If I was ever in a band, I think I'd want to make intimate music. The kind that exists in that airspace between your headphones and your eardrum when you curl up under a quilt trying to forget your day. I'd want my music to be what your subconscious sounds like, so that you'd be completely creeped out, in awe of of me. Oh, and I'd want to be part of a band. With one very unusual instrument. Like the kazoo, or a didgeridoo, or a shamisen.

And when we travel on tours, we shall tour to places that generally don't have shows. Like Calcutta. And we shall not tour in places which already have concerts. Like ANYWHERE IN AMERICA. Fack you betchez.

Also, we shall never contribute to the soundtrack of any of the Twilight series.

So basically we shall be rather cool.

"Love Lies Bleeding in My Hand"

So you know what? The idea of a boyfriend pisses me off a tad.
I mean seriously.
R2 has an ex she has not gotten over since forever, and even though he's made it quite clear that they're O-V-U-R (I refer of course, to Kath and Kim), she will not and is physically incapable of not talking about him.
R3 is going out with someone in her class. And they just started going out yesterday so she will not and is physically incapable of not being able to grin and hop and skip and re-enact scenes. It's dinner AND a show.
R4 is single. But she doesn't care. (No, I do not refer to myself as R4, R4 is an actual another person.)
R5 is practically married and R5 spends all her time on telecommunication devices. (This isn't me either, she's another person also.)

Me?
I'm a cynical bastard who is physically incapable of sneering at all romantic stereotypes.
I've never had an ex so I do not know what it's like to be hung up on someone, and frankly, I think I'm kind of over the waiting-and-wishing-for-Johnny-Depp-to-wake-up-and-notice me thing.
I'm not going out with someone in my class. Even if I had a lobotomy, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest style, I would not consider going out with any of those horny bastards. They're just too much fun to actually care about.
I am not single either, neither am I practically married. Rather, I am both, but then again, you know what? I'm neither also.
So that brings us down to the singular realisation that I, R1, am a cynical bastard.
I scoff at stories of roses delivered across seven seas.
I do not melt at songs that typically make a group pair up and sigh and dance.
But, but, but, don't label me heartless just yet, you know what, I do have a heart. (I'm going to not refer to anything for a while here).
I DO have a heart. I do *clap* I do.
The kind that makes me want to stalk Gary Lightbody.
The kind that makes me spend nothing on myself for two months so I can spend 800/- on Indiapost.
You know that thing that sometimes aches (only when I have a cold, but then I guess it's the phlegm and not the heart, but I'm not erasing this because it makes me poetic) and reminds me that I'm human. You know, because sometimes parents will not understand, and you just want a best friend you can kiss.
And this THING, this stupid black stone heart, it reminds me that one day I'm going to die.

Tell me you'll remember me.
Tell me you thought I was the awesomest person you ever knew. And I'll wave a little fire spark your way from Hell, which is where I'll be.

"Please don't go crazy if I tell you the truth."

I listened to several songs for inspiration
And I tried staring straight into space.
I waited for a bolt of lightning to singe my hair and burn my face
And electrocute my brain into a state of poetic frenzy
But you see,
The sky does not have potential enough.
How do they do it, the ones who do it, write songs about people, just like that?
I have a muse far greater than them, and yet I'm stuck here
Rambling.
As I was saying-
I could try to rhyme the way I tried
Back when I was seven, in school, and far too zealous, I tried everything
Even ice-cream with ketchup,
So I wrote a poem for class
About my cat
Who was fat
He ate rats
Slept on a mat
In a class of thirty, twenty-two of us seemed to own twenty-two identical imaginary
Cats
Who were Fat
Ate Rats
Slept on a Mat.
So evidently, I'm not the next Plath.
I could write you a song, a song with no instruments but with incoherence
Because my ineptitude also extends to musical instruments.
But if you were a song,
You'd be an instrumental track
And what I'm getting at here might solve my poetic predicament too.
Hell.
You're just too good for words.

Post Title-"How to Be Dead", Snow Patrol, for the American Pie soundtrack.