Amanda Fucking Palmer

I've been shuffling through her blog today, reading bits and pieces and looking at the pretty pictures. Found this. I've read it before, and then I forgot it, and now I've found it again. I absolutely loved it when I read it, see. Because I miss feeling like what she describes, when waking up. I miss feeling at peace, happy. I have felt it in the past. But I'm having a hard time remembering when. She's written it so beautifully, and I guess it's kinda cute, too. And so, so true.

~

i often go to blogging in my head upon waking, and i usually never do it, but this morning i reached over and grabbed my mac, it was within arms reach.

morning head: i like this head, when everything is clear and new and things things things start filtering in one by one. first the magic, then the mundane.

i treated myself to this hotel room in portland after lots of relative bed-and-couch crashing.

i move my legs around in the king-size bed, feeling very lucky to exist at all, not knowing anything yet.

left leg works, rubs against sheet.

right leg works, rubs against sheet.

whole body stretches out and feels gloriously enveloped.

things, facts.

i’m in portland.

i don’t have anything to do today but catch up.

i’ll drink coffee.

i love coffee.

the coffee here is good coffee.

this pillow is soft.

i love neil.

his voice sent me off to bed, i remember now.

i remember how.

construction sounds outside.

the blinds are open.

what time is it?

this pillow is soft.

maybe i’ll blog about this.

maybe i’ll sit all day in powell’s bookstore and not work.

maybe i’ll go back to sleep.

because i can.

this pillow is wonderful.

should get a pillow like this.

soft soft pillow.

what would i do with it?

i can’t carry around a pillow like this everywhere.

i live out of a suitcase.

and

that’s the evil moment: that’s when the truth caves things in.

mornings are amazing alone, like this. mornings are also amazing together. there’s that wonderful thing that happens when you’re in love and you wake up next to Them and your brain hasn’t clicked into it’s Self yet and you just become a vessel, a thing that pours love. my instinct, upon waking, to love something. but mornings are amazing alone - the body and the mind can snake around improvisational, making weird things in silence.

then the day comes, the realities materialize, and mundane takes over. the magic might only last twenty seconds, sometimes even less.

used to be when i was home in boston, especially in summer with the sun blazing through the vines in my window, i’d often have this 20 seconds of “i’m going to change my whole existence today” upon waking on an off day where i had nothing planned. i’d lie there in bed: ahhhhhh holy shit, i have nothing to do today…maybe i’ll drive to maine. pick blueberries. see ships. maybe i’ll sit in the boston public library all day and look at 17th century art. maybe i’ll go to harvard and see what it would take to enroll. maybe i’ll learn to play piano. maybe i’ll go work in a soup kitchen.

Etc.

these things would never happen.

i would go to yoga, i would read the paper, and i would spend hours and hours catching up on email and talking on the phone. that is My Life.

this is probably what i will do today.

it’s fine.

Runs in the family

Sometimes. A lot of times. Mostly, these days, actually... I feel crazy. Desperate. Sick. Insane. Unhealthy inside. There a whole lot of hurt. And a whole lot of other things that I can't really name. And I don't know where it comes from. I don't know why it's like this. I've never been diagnosed with anything, and a lot of bad stuff has happened, stuff that would make anyone depressed, stuff that would make a lesser person give up after a lot less than ten years. Stuff that's made me so lovesick, so hungry for warmth and closeness, for genuine affection and attention, for a connection, that it scares me - because it's taken a serious toll on my limits and borderlines and mostly I can't tell who or what it is that I crave with this extreme and dangerous passion. There's a monster inside of me and I don't know how to feed it, and I want to blame someone, something, anything, for putting it there. I want a reason, I want to know why, and how, and I want to scream it at the top of my lungs; that it isn't my fault, that it all just happened to me and that I reacted and caved in and collapsed and turned into something wretched and scared and needing and fragile. My strength is what did me in. I held on too long. I never should have.

I found this song while waiting for the bus last night. It grabbed hold of me. I don't think I've ever heard anything as intense as this. It captured my desperation wonderfully, gave me something to whisper fiercly to myself, to sing, to mutter, to revolve around, to think. The lyrics are nothing sort of genious to me, and the melody wraps itself around me and drags me in, paints pictures, tells stories, both my own and other peoples', and it's safe inside of it, but still not safe at all, and the monster awakens and I let the crazy take a spin and settle in (thank you, Tori) and I drown in the music and the words and love it and adore it with every bit of my crazy, crushed self. But it still fucking hurts.

~

my friend has problems

with winter and autumn

they give him prescriptions

they shine bright lights on him

they say it's genetic

they say he can't help it

they say you can catch it

but sometimes, you're born with it

my friend has blight

he gets shakes in the night

and they say that there's no way

that they could have caught it in time

time takes its toll on him

it is traditional

it is inherited

predispositional

all day, I've been wondering

what is inside of me?

who can I blame for it?
I say it runs in the family

this family that carries me

to such great lengths

to open my legs up

to anyone who'll have me

it runs in the family

I come by it honestly

do what you want

'cause who knows?

it might fill me up

my friend's depressed
she's a wreck, she's a mess
they've done all sorts of tests
and they guess it has something
to do with her grandmother's
grandfather's grandmother
civil war soldiers
who badly infected her
my friend has maladies
rickets and allergies
that she dates back to
the seventeenth century
somehow, she manages
in her misery
strips in the city and
shares all her best tricks with

me, well, I'm well

well, I mean, I'm in hell
well, I still have my health
at least that's what they tell me
if wellness is this
what in hell's name is sickness?
but business is business
and business runs in the family

we tend to bruise easily
bad in the blood
I'm telling you 'cause I
just want you to know me
know me and my family
we're wonderful folks
but don't get to close to me
'cause you might knock me up

Mary have mercy
now look what I've done
but don't blame me because
I can't help where I come from
and running is something
that we've always done well
and mostly, I can't even
tell what I'm running from
run from their pity
from responsibility
run from the country and
run from the city
I can run from the law
I can run from myself
I can run for my life
I can run into debt
I can run from it all
I can run 'til I'm gone
I can run from the office
and run from the cause
I can run using every
last ounce of energy
I cannot, I cannot
I cannot run from my family

they're hiding inside of me
corpses on ice
come in if you like
but just don't tell my family
they'll never forgive me
they'd say that I'm crazy
but they would say anything
if it would shut me up

Have to drive

Oh my god. Discovered this five minutes ago. Blew my mind.

~

I have to drive
I have my reasons, dear
it's cold outside
I hate the seasons here

I suffer mornings most of all
I feel so powerless and small
by ten o'clock, I'm back in bed
fighting the jury in my head

you learn to drive
it's only natural, dear
you drive all night
we haven't slept in years

we suffer mornings most of all
we saw you lying in the road
we tried to dig a decent grave
but it's still no way to behave

it is a delicate position
spin the bottle, pick the victim
catch a tiger, switch directions
if he hollers, break his ankles
to protect him

we'll have to drive
they're getting closer
just get inside
it's almost over

we will save your brothers
we will save your cousins
we will drive them far away
from streets and lights
from all signs of mad mankind

we suffer mornings most of all
wake up all bleary eyed and sore
forgetting everything we saw
(I'll meet you in an hour
at the car)

Blake says

So sore and tender. Gives me the chills. Makes my eyes sting a little. My god, her voice... It just breaks right through my chest and enters my heart. But that doesn't show as well in the live version...  I keep trying to form a mental picture of Blake. Keep trying to understand who he is. I've yet to succeed. Maybe some day.

~

Blake says no one ever really loved him
they just faked it to get money from the government
and Blake thinks angels grow when you plant angel dust
he shakes his head and blinks his pretty eyes

but trust me, he's no valentine
though he said he would be mine
his heart is in Alaska all the time

Blake stays under water for the most time
he collects lose change for all tomorrow's parties
and when Blake dates girls with tattoos of the pyramids
he breaks their hearts by saying it's not permanent

but in his velvet mind
he believes with all his might
we'll all go to Alaska when we die

Blake makes friends, but only for a minute
he prefers the things he orders from the internet
and Blake's been having trouble with his head again
he takes his pills, but never takes his medicine

he tells me that he's fine
and the sad thing is, he's right
and when it's two o' clock, it feels like nine

Blake says he is sorry he got through to me
if it's OK, he'll call right back and talk to the machine
Blake says it looks like acid rain today
he takes the fish inside - he's very kind that way

and just like Caroline
he doesn't seem to mind
the globe is getting warmer all the time

it's still cold in Alaska
it's still cold in Alaska