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][ Devil in Jersey City* ][
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[18 Sep 2003|01:10am] |
New lj:
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) apistolskiss
Comment to be added, it's friends only.
I need a new user icon for that journal, can anyone hook it up, yo?
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[16 Sep 2003|05:15pm] |
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music |
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the mars volta |
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Someone kidnap me...
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[16 Sep 2003|04:54am] |
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music |
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Yo la Tengo // season of the shark |
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she returns fire: want to know a secret?
she returns fire: i've got this silly little fantasy about being a sniper :-D i'd be hotshit taking out those bad guys
pistols romance: hahaha oh you would.
Hahaha!
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[16 Sep 2003|02:58am] |
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mood |
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 hungry |
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music |
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Porcupine Tree followed by Yo La Tengo |
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Rocking out never tasted so good.
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[16 Sep 2003|02:13am] |
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mood |
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Twice a week I'd see you through a window, wave and smile. Let's get married; let's own a dog named Jiles. It could be fun, so much so that it hurts. I'd give it all up to know that you loved me.
Oh, to know that you loved me...
To know that you loved me...
Salmon colored pillows would accent our room in the house that we'd build, on the corner of a street no one knew existed, in a town with no name, in a state oh so random. Rose garden sundays and white picket wednesdays.
Oh, to know that you loved me...
To know that you loved me...
Neighbors would come and bring us gifts with no bows on them. We'd take them and laugh, cause we'd know we'd never use them. Gifts have no use in a house decorated with love.
Oh, to know that you loved me...
To know that you loved me...
Twice a week I'd see you through a window, wave and smile. You never wave back; we won't need the dog.
Twice a week I see you through a window, wave and smile, but you don't wave back.
We won't need the dog.
Holla at me.
P.S: New screen name
\\\ pistols romance ///
Add it, yo.
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[15 Sep 2003|03:08am] |
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music |
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coheed and cambria |
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It's 2am
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It's 2am and I'm in a mental coma.
Take the air from my lungs and use it all up. I don't care, I don't need it anyway. It come to me in dreams and it leaves me in a cold sweat.
It's 2am and I'm shaking.
I'm drowing in a pool of my own thoughts, and time is merely a noun. If I were to fade, who would fade with me?
It's 2am and I'm baring my naked mind to the internet.
Information is carried from the tips of my fingers to the tops of these keys, and translated into binary before my eyes, a digital representation of me molded by the grammar, spelling and literary techniques I choose to employ.
It's 2am and I'm listening to music that soothes and placates me.
Notes laid upon chords and reinforced with the steady timekeeping of the drum creates the soundtrack of a moment in a movie I call my life.
It's 2am and I'm not sleeping.
Sleep is for the weak, and I guess that makes me strong.
It's 2am and I'm thinking of who I'm gonna be after "high school".
Will I travel the world and see new empires form, and old regimes collapse? Or will I sit at home watching it all happen on CNN, wishing I was there?
It's 2am and I'm setting all my thoughts ablaze for all to see with the fire of verbal expression.
[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[||||||||]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]
Sensory Verbatim
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I heard every word you said and I took it to heart.
I made sure I took snapshots in my head of the curtains of our house so I knew the colors with which I should associate pain with.
I can still smell the candles burning out like the flaming effigies of our love.
I will know the taste of bitterness as "breakfast".
I still feel your hands on my face, keeping my head steady, and chin up, while you stare into my eyes and rip out my heart.
Sight.
Smell.
Taste.
Touch.
Hearing.
Senses are there to let us identify that which hurts us the most.
Sensory Verbatim.
Let me know what you guys think, thanks. Try to be more specific than "good" or "great". Thanks again.
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[13 Sep 2003|01:57pm] |
Monkey toes rule.
I just picked up something with my foot, hot shit, eh ladies?
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[12 Sep 2003|05:06am] |
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How is she so great?
She likes what I like and doesn't like what I don't.
I really think I'm going head over heels, just a little, not too much, I hope my heart will stay in my chest.
I understand that after a hundred weeds choking it, a flower is hesitant to grow on the same patch of grass.
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[11 Sep 2003|01:15pm] |
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mood |
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sad |
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Well, he's gone. I'll never see him or hear him again until the end of my days, what I would give to see him smile is unmeasureable.
9/9/03- Call from cousin: "Grandpa just died, we're flying out tonight."
"Oh, alright."
I hung up and looked for my dad. Dad's on the phone, wait til he gets off. Dad gets off phone, I walk into the office and just tell him blankly, stupified: "Abuelo se murio."
"Grandpa is dead."
I walked to my room and cried, I cried with more emotion than I have ever cried before. So much sadness in each tear then the one before the last, so much sorrow.
9/9/03- Boarded a plane with cousin to Puerto Rico; off into the wild blue yonder and the dark days ahead. Got to Puerto Rico, picked up at the airport, straight to the funeral parlor.
We walked into the last few minutes of the first service and greeted my mother, aunt, grandmother, cousins, uncles, and aunts. Friends of the family and people that helped care for my mother and her sister when they were children and still living with grandpa.
Mom asks: "Ja lo viste?"
"A quien?"
"Abuelo."
"No, vamos."
"Have you seen him?"
"Seen who?"
"Grandpa."
"No, let's go."
I walked into the room where his body was, I could see him from the door and I couldn't believe it was him. Last time I'd seen him he was the same stubborn but lovable old man, living out the end of his days in the place he built for himself and his wife. Now, he was an empty shell, a pale shade of a man.
Mom was seated just in front of the casket, and I took my place next to her. Tears flowed like water from a leaky faucet at first, but by the middle of the service I couldn't hold them back anymore, I couldn't do the usual and cover up the tears with just a frown and glazed eyes. They came like the rain and were just as constant. I had a seat and cried for what seemed like forever.
"I don't care"
That's what grandpa used to call me, not because I didn't care, but because of something I had said when I was a young child, I was playing with my toys, what did I care of what grandpa had to say? He was there when I was born and he was going to be there well into my life, right? Definitely wrong.
I wish I could say that I'm happy and mean it. I know deep down that I'll always be sad that he's not here. I can say "I'm happy he's in a better place now" until my throat burns but that won't make it true. It's not really so much sad as it is weird. Abuelo was just always there, and it didn't hit me that he was gone until I realized that I was carrying his casket to the plot.
All I could do was stare and think of how much he loved all of us, how much he enjoyed it when I said "I don't care." to him over the phone. I'd give almost anything just to sit with him and watch boxing on HBO, I wouldn't say anything I'd just sit there and enjoy what time was left with him, because I'd know the next day he wouldn't be around to say, "Mira, biyillo!" or to tell me things that the disciples said in the books of The Bible they wrote. He wouldn't be there to quote the scripture of The Bible whenever it was that I was sad or angry. He wouldn't be around to tell me how much he loves me or how he was going to sell the house in Puerto Rico and get rich real fast.
I love you grandpa. "I don't care."
---------------
Miguel Lopez Rivera
1910-2003
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[09 Sep 2003|03:41am] |
Imagine walking on clouds while saving the world, and you'll almost be there.
I love this feeling. This feeling is what I live for, thank you.
I'm sure you know who you are when you read this.
So you are one for falling asleep in anothers arms?
You can find compassion here, you can find solace. You can find sanctuary from those that would rather kick dirt in your beautiful face. You can find affection here, in a place most unexpected. I'm there when you need me to be, and gone when you need your space, no need to argue, no need for haste; I'm happy making you smile.
Yes, I am one to fall asleep in your arms.
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[08 Sep 2003|12:42pm] |
The hotness...
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[06 Sep 2003|05:02pm] |
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[ W | E | A | K ]
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[03 Sep 2003|12:34am] |
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mood |
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 contemplative |
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The ocean of the mind is vast as the sea is deep and then some.
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Imaginative systems starlit by the flaring of the mind's fire. Gleaming with the flickers of memories long since past, and the kindle that are the ideas for a future so perilously close to execution. Time's ebb and flow coordinate the many thought train-like movements as a well practiced conducter at the forward-most car of an Amtrak would.
Induction to the system takes time and is the process by which we all live our lives. Being liked is what we all crave subconsciously, and the cereberal submarine the S.S Subconscious takes daily dives into the deepest parts of the vast ocean labeled by graphs and charts as the brain. Much like the actual ocean, the brain is charted and labeled, but not fully uncovered.
Realms within realms of virtual existances that could be, are stored and created in the media in which we indulge ourselves in. Landscapes of sounds and colors are revised, revisited everyday, all day long. Some will never see the light of conscious thought or even the reflection of it. Yet, we make these impossible scenarios always hoping, wishing, that maybe, just maybe, they will come true.
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[01 Sep 2003|01:17am] |
Dreams
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The rays of the sun shoot through my windows and force my eyes open. I wake up alone, to a home, without lights. It takes a while for the dark spots to fade with the coming glow of dawn.
A new day sprung forth to greet me, and all I did was sleep. It comes as no surprise that there is no one here with me, all I do is sleep. Days get longer and nights get shorter, it hurts to be awake, and sleep never lasts long.
My heart beats in my chest counting the beat of my life away, like a metronome counts the beats of the music it measures. In a rhythm so peculiar, I stop and wonder, what the point of consciousness is.
To keep us from achieving in our dreams, what we cannot in life too many times.
I sleep and dream of people, places, and things that I'd like to see, but when I wake I know there will be nothing but a fantasy played out under my eyelids. The Sandman so fickle with who he sprinkles, is not swayed in any way by what we like to wish for. You ask for a dream of your lover and receive one of an enemy. A request for a dream of conquest brings one of regret for a action hastily taken.
Dreams, perhaps are things in themselves. Creatures that live neither here nor there. Illusions that haunt us, or push us to succeed, they hold great amounts of weight over us. They are entities that know no forms of resent or appreciation. They come to us when they see fit.
It's better this way. To sleep per chance to dream, indeed.
It seems I know how to write, eh? Let me know what you think.
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| Aw snap nigga! |
[31 Aug 2003|01:03am] |
Damn right you do.
Webcam chatting rules.
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[30 Aug 2003|12:13pm] |
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Good-bye
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Take the cigarette from my mouth take a drag, and hand it back. i'll strum my guitar if it'll make you happy, i'll say what you want, just let yourself go.
I'll take my time in studying the curves of your face. It won't be long before I'm gone and I've left you all alone.
Good-bye.
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| What the fuck? |
[27 Aug 2003|07:17pm] |
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Anyway...
I had a dream about Amy, it was cool. I only remember parts. I remember shooting guns at people, I think they were trying to steal something, maybe it was Amy. She was shooting guns too. Guns in dreams are cool, they always hit their mark. I remember saying stuff to Amy, but I forgot what. Weird, huh?
+++++++++++I love DoD.++++++++++++++
I am going skating tommorow with my friend Italo, this should be fun, good times. I don't have many freinds up here, the ones I do have are from the stupid high school here. He was cool, let's see how he has been. I love skating, it sets me free.
I might get pissed, but it has got to be the best sport ever.
Wait, did I just call it a sport? Lifestyle is what I meant.
I want to be nomadic, I wish I had an infinite supply of boards and a car with gas that never runs out.
I feel like I'm flying whenever I pop a little ollie here and there. I break free from gravity with every snap of that tail. Everyone of my moves mentally recorded, and played back. Sometimes they don't play back right, so I do it over until they are exactly alike. Finding the peace that comes from the immense amounts of concentration is such a great thing; "The Zone". I love this sport of mine, no, this lifestyle.
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[27 Aug 2003|04:53pm] |
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Oakland Raiders, what-what?!
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