?

Log in

No account? Create an account
 

June 28th, 2002 - Yew Erdri Ming — LiveJournal

About June 28th, 2002

We are the dead 12:49 am
I've been reading 1984 lately and my mind has been stuck on that phrase which is repeated several times throughout the book; "We are the dead,"

The truth of that concept seems to be resonating within me lately with general feelings of ineffectuality.

David Bowie wrote a very good song titled after that line in 1984. The lyrics;

"We Are the Dead"

Something kind of hit me today
I looked at you and wondered if you saw things my way
People will hold us to blame
It hit me today, it hit me today

We're taking it hard all the time
Why don't we pass it by?
Just reply, you've changed your mind
We're fighting with the eyes of the blind
Taking it hard, taking it hard

Yet now
We feel that we are paper,
choking on you nightly
They tell me "Son, we want you, be elusive,
but don't walk far"
For we're breaking in the new boys,
deceive your next of kin
For you're dancing where the dogs decay,
defecating ecstasy
You're just an ally of the leecher
Locator for the virgin King,
but I love you in your fuck-me pumps
And your nimble dress that trails
Oh, dress yourself, my urchin one,
for I hear them on the rails
Because of all we've seen,
because of all we've said
We are the dead

One thing kind of touched me today
I looked at you and counted all the times we had laid
Pressing our love through the night
Knowing it's right, knowing it's right

Now I'm hoping some one will care
Living on the breath of a hope to be shared
Trusting on the sons of our love
That someone will care, someone will care

But now
We're today's scrambled creatures,
locked in tomorrow's double feature
Heaven's on the pillow, its silence competes with hell
It's a twenty-four hour service,
guaranteed to make you tell
And the streets are full of press men
Bent on getting hung and buried
And the legendary curtains are drawn
'round Baby Bankrupt
Who sucks you while you're sleeping
It's the theater of financiers
Count them, fifty 'round a table
White and dressed to kill

Oh caress yourself, my juicy
For my hands have all but withered
Oh dress yourself my urchin one,
for I hear them on the stairs
Because of all we've seen, because of all we've said
We are the dead.
Current Mood: depresseddepressed
Current Music: Tom Waits - Flower's Grave

A word on scheme 01:05 am
Incidently, the colour scheme, as you may have noticed, has changed. No longer Bloody Extracted Heart on Sterile White Opporating Table, this one I am calling the Twin Peaks Black Lodge, 'cause that's what it reminds me of. I thought the previous one was more innovative on my part, but this one makes it easier to read the Current Music which is an intensely important segment to my species of freak.

So now . . . I have . . . four very time and energy consuming projects to work on. Which shall I chose this evening? What's that? I should make a brand new web page? Well, okay Voice, if you think that's a good idea . . .
Current Mood: blahblah
Current Music: Tom Waits - Poor Edward

The insolent sun 09:40 am
Waffles.

I will eat waffles soon. Why do I put it off? I want to eat. I am hungry . . .

I'm not sure what I shall do to-day. I do know that I feel as if a billion tiny praying mantises have crawled up my nose and are now making crude cave paintings on the other side of my forehead.

To-day, I'm sure, shall involve spinach. But what else? What Else?

In any event, I do not feel I have the cache of stomachs for a real emotional investment in anything much to-day, except I'm feeling a sort of subdued passion. Gak.
Current Mood: gloomygloomy
Current Music: Elvis Costello - My Dark Life
Top of Page Powered by LiveJournal.com