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The Aficionado

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(no subject) [Jan. 7th, 2006|08:25 pm]
The Aficionado

entangled amidst the beauty and nightmare of words;
this is he, this is he.
mingling with silver linings and enchanted swords;
this is he, this is he.

laced and bound by my righteous claim;
this is he, this is he.
bereft of all lies, betrayals, games;
this is he, this is he.

dancing with the leaves upon the wind;
this is he, this is he.
singing with the angels youthful hymn;
this is he, this is he.

embedded and writ upon the deepest sea;
this is he, this is he.
embraced by truth and loved by me;
this is he, this is he.
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For You [Dec. 20th, 2005|04:43 pm]
The Aficionado

[mood |tiredtired]
[music |A Perfect Circle - Orestes]

The wind tears off my skin
It whips the sides and freezes the heart of my boat
I hear your voice, I hear your words
Each time the lightning strikes
The thunder echos inside of me

The dawn melts the stars
It brings new light upon the shore
I feel your touch, I feel your stare
The water is cold
but will warm with the first rays of light

All that I have lost
And all that I save
is for you

~ Brian
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(no subject) [Dec. 15th, 2005|10:28 am]
The Aficionado

'Hide and Seek' - Imogen Heap

where are we? what the hell is going on?
the dust has only just began to fall
crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling
spin me around again and rub my eyes
this can't be happening
when busy streets a mess with people would stop to hold their heads heavy

hide and seek
trains and sewing machines?
all those years they were here first

oily marks appear on walls
where pleasue moments hung before
the takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this
still alive

hide and seek
trains and sewing machines? oh, you won't catch me around here
blood and tears they were here first

mm what you say
oh that you only meant well, well of course you did
mm what you say
mm that it's all for the best, of course it is
mm what you say
that IT'S JUST what we need, you decided this
mm what you say
what did she say?

ransom notes keep falling at your mouth
mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut outs
speak no feeling no i don't believe you
you don't care a bit you don't care a bit

ransom notes keep falling at your mouth
mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut outs
speak no feeling no i don't believe you
you don't care a bit you don't care a bit

you don't care a bit
you don't care a bit
you don't care a bit
you don't care a bit
you don't care a bit
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(no subject) [Dec. 14th, 2005|11:12 am]
The Aficionado

[mood |contentcontent]

i love clean houses and neatly folded laundry silk bedspreads and velvety kitty fur i love the way my husband's skin smells and the way hailley's hair gets poofy when she brushes it i love tall christmas trees lit with white lights peeking out the windows at a foggy night in which the sky has been tinted lavendar with the street lights catching on the dew drops in the air i love cradling my head on luke's shoulder as i fall asleep i love the first sip of hot coffee first thing in the morning i love unexpected long distance phone calls and christmas cards arriving in the mail i love having ideas float around in my brain whole thoughts whole sentances whole stories carving their way in to my mind and festering until i find the time to let them spill out through my fingers and onto a hard drive i love stretching in yoga i love the smell of the mat and the faint scent that the heater leaves in that room i love staring at the bamboo floors and feeling my muscles lengthen and knowing that i will still be doing this in fifteen years i love hugging hailley goodbye in the morning as she boards the big yellow school bus i love it when cars pause for us to cross the street as mother and daughter in the misty morning sun i love icy front porches and the magical 'ice fossils' that rest on the deck railing i love the toasty vinyl seats of the city buses and i love the smell of the tall-ceilinged lobby of my office building and the swoosh of the old brass doors as i open them and enter a beautiful art deco world long forgotten by everyone except me


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Her story untold. [Nov. 26th, 2005|12:06 am]
The Aficionado

Call it deprivation, even I'm not sure. What is the exact definition to that word anyways? I've always wanted to say that to a boy. Well, at least the girlie part of me. The more rational and mature part of me would never let me betray myself like that, thank the stars. But I still wait for the day when I am able to say it to someone....

And honestly, when I imagine saying it to someone, I inagine saying it to you. Not because I do -- because believe me, I don't. But so far, you're the closest I've ever had to it. And eachtime I close my eyes and imagine the scene, you're there.
And eachtime when my eyes are opened, and you really are standing there infront of me, that's when I knew for sure, you'll never be the one to hear it.

...And so she continues fumbling on with a story left to unfold...
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fallen [Oct. 18th, 2005|11:11 am]
The Aficionado

[mood |sadsad]
[music |natalie merchang]

the fog outside echoes the fog in my head
buildings play peek-a-boo through the grey clouds

i wish my thoughts would become crisp
like the brown and gold and red leaves
that crunch under my feet on the sidewalk

soon the rain and mists
will break down the leaves
paste them to the concrete until you cannot tell
where the sidewalk ends and the leaves begin
just as i cannot tell the difference between
depression and
everyday life
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Repetition repetition so foul a repetition... Recitations of your brain [Oct. 9th, 2005|11:26 pm]
The Aficionado

[mood |tiredtrapped]
[music |Swallowed by the Sea - ColdPlay]

How much did someone mean to you then, and how much do they mean to you now?

Sometimes things and things seems so repetitive,
occasions upon occasions of things and things.
Occurances of and about,
the same stories then and again.

When does it ever really transpire for you to learn to look for things differently.

And then tidal waves of emotions hit.
Crashing in so fresh.
Alluring and almost enticing.
Pringling your every nerve.

But emotions can never be repetitive.
No no, can it?
But based on the things which happened before the things and the other things,
it is in a way repetitive -- isn't it?

And so "anew" you'd begin,
This journey which never seemed to have been, but really is a mere trace of footsteps in your memory you've so well forgotten.
You've been down this path haven't you?
Before and again, yet you wouldn't know.

Because it doesn't feel like it,
it never will really feel the same
right down to the smallest vibe.

The first explosion always seems the biggest.

And then as the other ones follow the other ones,
so slowly in subsequence you forget.

And what that person once was to you isn't what they are to you now....

when it comes down to it, everything seems so temporary, so unreal after everything and everything. it loses any means of motivation for me....
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Baked with Real Cheese [Oct. 9th, 2005|01:49 am]
The Aficionado

[mood |ditzydizzy from the wine]
[music |Sarah McLachlan - Plenty]

I'm sitting here thinking and drinking some wine. The lights are real low and it's kinda late. Sarah is playing on DVD.
She sings,
Hold on
Hold on to yourself
For this is gonna hurt like hell

Before Hold On was Plenty. I love that song.

I looked into your eyes
They told me plenty
I already knew
You never felt a thing
So soon forgotten all that you do
In more than words i
Tried to tell you
The more I tried I failed

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(no subject) [Sep. 4th, 2005|03:22 am]
The Aficionado

"I think about all the things I've done, Oskar. And all of the things I didn't do. The mistakes I've made are dead to me. But I can't take back the things I never did"

* Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close - Jonathan Foer
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(no subject) [Aug. 21st, 2005|03:34 am]
The Aficionado

rdtopiusdiopufgpoiert;oidgkjasfdklhflksjhfdglskjhgfdlskjfdhglkjhfdlsd kfjhgslkdjhgslkdfjhgslkdjhgflak jahs asklfdj; alsdjif ioaspioutpwqjf;lkflajfljf and only in a frdream in a dream in adream i learn to type without looking, i learn to read without thinking, i learn to percieve without seeing i learn to acknowledge without observing i learn to love without hurting, without hurting without hurting. Impossible, impossible as the day would dawn. dub light to those. hidden under rocks. scared, sacred, hushed. live a dream, in a dream. only dreams make sense. senseless. i have none. never did, always will. my sense is my own. my truth it my own. my knowledge is a privelege. my family is the warmth. my heart is the time. my mind is what grows. my soul is what resonates. within you, within you. within you.live with what you're givien. expand on what you've picked up. learn to dream. strive for ambition. go to someplace new. refesh your mind, about what this is. abot what this is all about. you and your life an your heart and your mind. Your spirit shot through the clouds. among the stars. are you waiting for me? are you waiting for her? are you waiting for him? for them? they're watching you. in a journey all your own. a story for you to write. fly with the butterflies, die with the summer, struggle through the winter. live when sring comes back. howl with the wolves, dance with the grass, sing with the crowd, scream with the loneliness. laugh with the silence, it;'s yours, all of it. take it, embrace it. learn it. taste it. utterly, ultimately and completely your own. drift, and i drift, further and futher and further into the dream i drift. reality isn't as it seems it's all in your head. I learn to type without looking. i learn to love without hurting impossible impossible impossible asdfhsios laskr 3ea sf sfd;a af ;osiufioserhad dfjyu erkldf fand in a dream in a drea,m in my dream, my very own dream. asdlsfdpodflkjasdf klfkjhf


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