way.

Oh dear you look so lost

I need music, the right song, the perfect fucking song for this moment. Its pre-planned, destined, fate kismet all that bullshit. There has to be, there is, there must there must.

Open Itunes, Click on Shuffle.

Simple Kind of Life
No Doubt

Not the song, but not a bad song either. I don’t know the words though, and that bugs me. The drums just started up, and my head moves without me noticing, my fingers typing with the beat, orange fingers, lit dimly by two candles and nothing else. Monitor’s blurry, the incense stick is making the pretties patterns, playing off and on the illuminated glass and then fading out eventually. The guitars strumming, acoustic, she sings ‘and all those simple things are simply too complicated for my life.’ Hah, that’s wisdom right there. That’s the thing, no one looks for wisdom in the right places anymore. Wisdom isn’t in dust covered book in the ‘reference’ section in libraries or in epic poetry. Wisdom is here, in song, and for some random reason in the voice of Gwen Stefani.

Song changes, mood changes.

Alone in Kyoto
Air

Has anyone heard this song? It so bare and stripped of any sort of anything that if songs wore clothes this would be stark naked. Its nothing, its three beats, a swelling sort of noise and a woman humming one noise repeatedly. There are no words, none at all, but for some reason there’s honesty. No airs of arrogance, no facades or frills, its just there, without reason or question or wanting of reply. You know those big shells you get? The ones that you can hear the ocean in? Well, if god was planning to give those a little makeover he should make you able to hear this song when you press the shell to your ear. This song reminds me of peace, and not of white doves and retro symbols, but of a purity that I don’t deserve, hell, that this world doesn’t deserve. We shouldn’t be allowed to listen to this song, we aren’t worth it. Its like how in sixth grade we played ‘boy germs’ and if any one touched a boy by mistake they would get it, and would run around passing it to all the girls, making us all cringe as the crazy contagious girl passed on her disease. Our disease, just like that one, is contagious, we’ll pass it on, mutate the clarity and haze it over with a dose of melancholy to boot.

Next Song.
Ah, Rap. Brother has been downloading music on my computer.

Wait
Ying Yang Twins.

Ew, this song is disgusting. And really creepy when your sitting in the dark.
Rap is really sexist.
Jesus Christ this sounds like RAPE.

Moving on

Wonderful Tonight
Eric Clapton

Memories. Childhood and belief and faith all mixed to make a cute fair kid with hair cascading down her back and a smile that was missing two teeth. She smiled anyway, no reason not to. She stared in front of the mirror and squinted her eyes in concentration. She took the hair band off the dresser and slid it over her hair, pushing it up a bit so that a little puffy part came out in the front. She grinned, mission accomplished, now back to trying to flush the spinach down the pot while her maid wasn’t watching. She looked at the door and saw her mom run to her room.

‘Its coming! Its coming!’

No more explanation needed, she clasped on to the hand her mother held out to her and ran to her parents room. She sat on the edge of the bed, right in front of the tv and started singing along. Her favorite song at that time, her moms too.

‘And then she asked me, do I look alright?
And I said my darling, you look wonderful tonight.’

And at that moment, at that moment with the white curtains that filtered through the whitest of light and the feel of the wooden side of the bed beneath her, she truly felt wonderful. There were no self esteem issues, or insecurities, she was too young to know imperfection. She didn’t realize it then, but it was perhaps in those moments that she too felt perfect, and maybe she was. She has changed so much since, god knows what she was when she started out. Back then, there were no what ifs or maybes or self hate or jealousy. Love was a song sung by a guy to a girl, and that’s just how straight forward it was.

The song ended long ago, ive gone through two since, but they were too insignificant to mention.

Next.

Smooth
Santana

Ah, how I adore this song. Love love love love. But then again, seeing that I havnt heard it in ages I guess I cant adore it that bloody much. But ah, the guitar speaks. You wont understand, but it does, that dude singing is just background noise. The guitar has its own story, its own story. Its had his heartbroken, its been there done that, its reached that level of hardness that you reach once you’ve gone through it and know that when it was good it was great, but when it was bad it was horrible. Its indifferent the guitar, it knows better, its tempted to let itself go, but it just wont, it just cant. I think everyone’s been there at some point, you don’t have to have been committed or in love to have your heart broken, hell, sometimes your heartbreaks when your brushing your teeth or blowing a bubble. Really, you don’t even notice most of the time.

Fast forward through all the trance, you cant really write to trance.

What’s my age again?
Blink 182

HAHAHHAA. This song, is awesome. This is a puberty song, when you head banged and sang really loudly with your windows down, your hands in the air, your hair flying everywhere.

fly me to the moon says:
my friends say i should act my age

(this is me randomly typing lyrics)

atrocious says:
yeah dude you really need to act your age
atrocious says:
some times you make too much of an effort not to

Woah. Food for thought. Eighteen. That’s a good age isn’t it? Life starts at eighteen doesn’t it? Legally you’re an adult but this is like official ‘party hard and fuck around’ time. Test your limits, try everything once, dance don’t walk, sing don’t speak, you can still get away with it.
Then, why the urge to be such a bloody aunty? Id like to think of myself as an old soul, but im just boring I think, and blah. Mature? Hah, try mundane.

Party pooper is the word I think.

Oddly short song, last one for the night ladies and gentlemen.

Trying
Lifehouse

I was never a big Lifehouse fan even back in the day when all the girls oo-ed and aa-ed over the lyrics and all the guys made mixed tapes for their ‘chicks’ to woo the girl and get to first base. Ive never been a girly girl. Actually, I guess im just a very unemotional one.
But this song, I fell in love with. He speaks to me, the singer. Heh, guess im still thirteen somewhere, somewhere beneath the air of pseudo intellectual superiority and arrogance. Guess there’s a little bit of ‘oo’ and ‘aa’ left in this senior citizen.
The songs is far from unique, just another soft rock type thing that has a catchy tune. But the lyrics, especially the first three lines get to me every time.


Could you let down your hair
And be transparent for a while
Just a little while?
To see if your human after all

Ok make that four. He’s talking to me, I could swear on it. Sorry Mr lifehouse man, I cant be transparent for anyone. Not you, not anyone. We had a funny conversation about friends today, and reached the conclusion that we had none. Ironic, twelve people who meet everyday and have known each other for years could sit together and say that they have no friends. Funny that they were right, all twelve of them, because truth be told, we’re all too selfish to ever go that extra mile for someone else.
Selfish, and scared.
Have I told you how scared I am? Because I am, so scared that if I make you real ill fall from grace in your eyes. And that’s not pretty, I rather stay the way I am in your head. Not perfect, no where near it, but love-able. And that, that ability for you to love me the way you see me now is something that im not ready to let go off now, or tomorrow or day after. I cant, sometimes that’s all that I have to cling on to.

The songs over, and even though the song hasn’t been found I think this post needs to end now. Its too long, I couldn’t be bothered to read it over and edit, so please excuse typo’s and the like. That, is ofcourse assuming that someone actually bothered to read all of this in the first place.

Ive been too honest with my words, that must stop.

I smile, peer my head out of the car window and look at the sweet parsi woman who was trying to help me out.

‘I know aunty, its just that the house numbers are in no proper order. I'm looking for 47, but they jump straight from 23 to 64.’

‘That’s because you’re on the wrong street, you need to go back to the main road and turn right instead of left.’

‘Oh, I didn’t realize. Thank you so much for your help.’

‘Its no problem, you just needed some direction(s) that’s all.’