These song lyric inspired graphs are delightful.
Feb
28
Feb
28
Marriage Proposal Rejected at Basketball Game
You have to wonder the nature of their relationship
Feb
27
i opened the fire door
to four lips
none of which were mine
kissing
tightened my belt around my hips
where your hands were missing
and stepped out into the cold
collar high
under the slate gray sky
the air was smoking and the streets were dry
and i wasn’t joking when i said
good bye
I’m in a programming lockdown right now but Ani DiFranco’s “Fire Door” just rotated
in and man oh man I love this song. It is perfect for today, on the way
to work this morning I walked by two new lovers gently kissing over a bike.
They were all alone on the crowded street. Interacting with the ease that
only comes with peace of mind.
there were magazine quality men talking on the corner
french, no less much less of them then us
so why do i feel like
something’s been rearranged?
you know, taken out of context i must seem so strange
killed a cockroach so big
it left a puddle of pus on the wall
when you and i are lying in bed
you don’t seem so tall
i’m singing now because my tear ducts are too tired
and my mind is disconnected but my heart is wired
i make such a good statistic
someone should study me now
somebody’s got to be interested in how i feel
just ’cause i’m here
and i’m real
I think I’m falling in love with NYC again. What a stupid and predictable
move that is. It is like all of a sudden I can see with clearer eyes. I’m becoming more
aware of what is happening around me again. Waking up. Like Spring.
oh, how i miss
substituting the conclusion to confrontation with a kiss
and oh, how i miss
walking up to the edge and jumping in
like i could feel the future on your skin
i opened the fire door
to four lips
none of which were mine
kissing
i opened the fire door
Feb
24
Between spinning some great music he’s obsessed with, Thom talks about where
to find new tunes, and discusses In Rainbows.
Straight up - a totally rad i-view w/ Bob Boilen.
Feb
16
Neil Young digs around in his pockets trying to find the right harp and then
plays a new song…
I want to live,
I want to give
I’ve been a miner
for a heart of gold.
It’s these expressions
I never give
That keep me searching
for a heart of gold
And I’m getting old.
