You Can Trust...

You can trust that my mind still locks you inside. You can trust that your name is still on my lips. You can trust that our story is on my fingers when I'm holding my guitar. You can trust that memory relapses. You can trust that I see your ghost in this town. You can trust that I can still smell you. You can trust that life is weird. You can trust that I was listening to the album we wore out when your name lit up the LCD. You can trust that I found that classic-perfectly timed. You can trust that life is weird. You can trust in circumstance. You can trust that there's a replay booth in my slide show mind. You can trust that they can't rival. You can trust that we're elaborate. You can trust that your name is found in my every prayer. You can trust me.

Little Thorns...

Little thorns are sticking in my sides,
Keeping me from getting where I need to be.
Making travel a damn sight more uncomfortable.
"If you don't get rid of them, they'll turn worse."
What if you use them as a catalyst?
For what? Hurt?
These little thorns can turn to gaping wounds.
No need for that.
Non-confrontational optimism is prescribed.
Piss-poor dressing for these wounds though.
When I travel through the desert, I get thorns in my side.
When I travel through the desert, it's just me and my thorns.
Then it's just me.
Then I'm out of the desert.
I'm trying to leave anyway.
I want to leave this place.

Have another Cory...

My God...I'm a retard when I drink...geez. Everything's magnified through the beer glass. Well done.

You know what I love about you...

...is that you sleep so tight next to me. That you concern yourself with innocence around me. You can do what you feel comfortable with around me...nobody's watching. That you don't know when he posts writings about you, but I DO! I know what he says, and it's interesting! Let's me know what you never told me. He's single-handedly giving you up! Poor guy...poor girl. Honesty would've been nice. It's all I ever did for you. That you hold me dear, but you're too afraid to mention it. That you have dreams about me, same as I do you. Tattooed on the eyelids was something I said first. Maybe they're not about me...maybe they're about someone else...probably. No need to get self-confident, I'm sure you'll tell me that I'm way off base...it's like you to do that. I know you better than anybody else though. You'll never understand because you don't want to. I love that when you feel lonely you might come to me! That's a confidnce builder in itself. Makes me feel good about myself. I also love that you'll forgive me for this because I'm shit-wasted! You always were forgiving when you wanted to be, and I was always forgiving no matter what. NO MATTER WHAT! NO MATTER WHAT! NO MATTER WHAT! NO MATTER WHAT! Because that's what you loved about me. That I ALWAYS loved you. Turned the other cheek aside...me, a saint? NO...not at all...but, fallen, YES! Concerned about you and only you...YES! I'll probably erase this tomorrow and I hope you don't see it. Why do you still try to keep in touch with me? Don't you know that it's deader than dead? Of course it was...you checked out long before it even died. Sad thing is, I quite haven't...well that's not entirely true. That's what I love about you...you know this! Smart girl you are. Witty, beautiful, intelligent beyond reason, soft, warm, passionate, beyond reach, inquisitive, exciting, poison (wonder if I'll ever meet another like you)...probably won't and that's a good thing and a bad thing. I say that I won't reference you anymore, and I shouldn't, being that you've found another, but I'm a bleeding heart and my heart bleeds like a sieve for you. There's no tourniquet that will cut this shit off. It's only mind over matter with this issue and I wish I had the fortitude...I do..I'm kidding. I will someday. This won't bother you anymore, not that it does anyways. I think you revel in the fact that I still pine for you...and that's what I love about you. You're more than self-confident...more than assured of your greatness. You've bought into it. As well you should...you are GREAT! And I love you for it. I just want to know what it was about me? WHAT WAS IT? WHAT WAS IT? WHAT WAS IT? WHAT WAS IT ABOUT ME THAT PUSHED YOU AWAY?????

You say I am as the Wilco song says, "I'm always in love." Truth being, I actually am not. YOU are the one who is always in love. I remain with one ideal, while you carry two or three or four or five. I just have one reserved. You were just disgusted that it was you.

Doesn't matter, I'm pushed. Sliding into home with a ghost man on third, bringing up the rear. Playing a game with myself, while you're playing a game with the world. I hope you're winning...it's looks like you might be! That's what I love about you. Adaptable, driven, confident, self-doubt doesn't cross your mind. You make the situation what you want it to be. Wish I could do that, but I play ball by a different set of rules. Maybe that was it...a bore. I was a bore. I WAS A BORE. I WAS A BORE. I WAS A BORE. I WAS A BORE. ZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

*sigh*

You know what I love about you...you're insecurities...because they're secure. Secure with me, and secure with the world. I hope you're treated right...you deserve it. You deserve happiness. You used to be such a happy girl. I hope that you have found that again...sounds like you have. Honesty...few and far between for me. I disappoint people, I disappoint myself, I disappoint you.

You know what I love about you? I love that you are the one...

You know what I hate about you? I hate that I love you.

Actually, I really don't care. Inebriation makes me nostalgic though...with regret following in the morn...I'm sure I'll do it again, because I am, as they (or you) say...a bleeding heart. EXCITING....I hope you're bothered by this!! I am.

180 Degree Turnaround

From a 45 to a 90 to a 180 degree turnaround. In reality, 2.5 seconds, while in our minds a lifetime of regrets, happiness, and momentary idleness. It was only for fun. It was just out of relaxation and good company. There was no intention of harm, but that's hard to qualify when all you hear is the sound of glass collapsing and metal conforming to the weight of pressure bearing down upon it's very frame. All you hear in the darkness as you watch the headlights roll is the frantic gasping of air as if their last breaths are taken. In that frame of time, that oh so short frame of time, you hear their plea through their breath, and through mine. You hear the noise of hands slapping the roof...trying to brace. Black paint chips away and the dust settles in your eyes. We were all at home, through home, and our souls were at rest, until the chaos came. Reaching for each other in the dark, calling out our names, while the radio still blasted, but we didn't hear it. Song #2 on the new cd...now forever cursed with the idea of mortality. It WAS my fault. Reaching out to feel their warm hands, to feel their hearts beat, and if I couldn't feel them I could hear them. Two in the back, one in the front...all you hear is the breathing...and then the escape. For a split second your mind wanders to the gas tank...your mind wanders to the ignition, and your mind wanders to the engulfing flames. Almost like you expect them to be there. You've seen too many movies, but luckily they stayed asleep. Then you hear the sound of buckles releasing and when the "wah, wah" pulsating leaves your head, you hear the radio again, and immediately turn it off. You hear the clear voices of those that you love calling out your name...asking if your alright. You hear the sound of sunglasses and cd's hitting the roof, and then you hear their backs raking against the broken glass to freedom. Soon...very soon, you hear nothing. You hear the resigned sound of life continuing to fill your de-oxygenated veins. You reach for the pack of cigarettes to help you make some sense out of what just happened. You look at the physical specimen of something so far-fetched, lying helpless in the middle of an open field. And then you exhale. You smile that you can still stand, and you smile bigger that they can too. Then you collapse to your knees, you cry and you ask them for their forgiveness. You look to the sky and ask Him for forgiveness and send a multitude of thanks for staying His wrath upon you, and for letting you watch another sunrise. You remember that they're with you in blood and you remember the blood has reached the boiling point. You embrace their hand...taking their words in like newfound courage...the most important words you've heard to this point in your life. You fall to the ground, and lose your stomach all over the field. You feel grateful to have that reaction...as morbid as it is, it makes you feel alive...you're aware of your continued existence. The next few hours are a blur of confusion and sleep comes at no small price, but in that 2.5 seconds, the only real clarity that you've had in your life remains vivid.

I almost died tonight in a car wreck...and I almost took three of my blood-loved with me.

Perhaps These Are Ones They Should Avoid

Sitting home sick with my sore throat. Beating the piss out of my mind again. Razing my fingers over the nickel-wound bullet strings. There's only one actuality, can't see it right now, eyes getting keen though...adjusted, like an iris in the dark. I keep myself occupied with things that I'm only half-partial to until the pulsating in my head stops...soon I hope. I get at least three to four laughs per day from my perspective of the unmitigated languish that wanker has...and it's not just him. It's all of them, and all those to come after them. Giving precedence to anything in that corner of the world is completely assinine and vain, even boringly humorous. I hope I live up to your expectations of me. They shouldn't be hard to reach...after all the bar is set pretty low.

I'm not angry that we lost what we were. I'm angry that we lost what we could've been.

Drunk as fuck and apathetic to your judgements...

...and apparently my own.








shit...

Starfucker

Did you please the stars?
Did you give them pleasure?
How is it bedding the beautiful people?
Does it make a loud noise when you drop their names?

California is rotting your insides.
Everything that is pure is turning gray, decaying to black.
You don't want to be an empty shell girl...
Do you?

Pick a pretty face for your fun.
Pick a pure heart for your soul.
Use them both for what you want.
It's all you ever wanted.
Pure fine-toothed need.

Just don't get them crossed.
The pure heart is only pure till it's scarred.
Then there's no reverse.

The pretty face is only pretty for awhile.
Until it's faded and old.
Then there's no reverse.

You're a good actor,
From the land of actors.
It's okay though,
Your nose has been fashioned shorter so you can see past it...you're enlightened.


Enlightened with the shit that can't be filtered out of your head.
Can you even recognize Purity?
Not that it's even close to me, but that you can't.
Or that you won't.
It's a place far from here, it has escaped the poison of this place.

I burn for you, I hurt for you, I yearn for you.
Which makes me impure.
But I don't have the pretty face.
So I've been jaded. I've been touched.

Touched by the storms of decadence you brought across state lines.
Into my tranquil little world.
When you got here, you immediately started setting up your colony.
A colony of pretty faces, washed in pride, cleansed with vanity.

In the "Township of Iridescent People,"
Who meet in Vanity Hall.
They meet every now and then for sporadic orgies.
Lust, desire, immediate satisfaction.

Somehow I wandered into this town.
Without my citizenship.
I was lost, on my way to Purity.
I must have taken a wrong turn,
Went down the wrong road.

I didn't notice signs. Only sins.
I was intrigued by the toxic lights.
Sitting at the tops of stadiums and bars.
Looking over the city...with the mayor at my side.

I was given the grand tour.
I was given the keys to the city.
I was given the inoculation.
I was given the disease.

Now Purity seems forever away.
The mayor is running for re-election,
And she's using any means to gather votes for her basket.
A basket she carries on her shoulders.

Like a brilliant and classically trained politician,
She tells you the things you need to hear.
Riding the fence...
Dangling carrots in front of your face enough to keep you trotting.

What we don't know is that she does this to everyone. Every citizen.
The special treatment is not that special at all.
Maybe we do know, but refuse to acknowledge.
We turn deaf ears, because we are addicts....to this dementia.

Like a soul-confining Fourth Reich,
We follow like mindless surfs.
Nodding in elation as she casts her wisdom.
Totally drawn like a moth to a porchlight.

Somewhere I took a wrong turn.
Somewhere I lost the way to Purity.
But there is a consolation...if there exists such a paradigm...
I've wounded her....

And for the time being the Township is without her leader.
It's citizens cast about, swimming in chaos,
Trying to gather the pieces, mourning for their Majesty.
The Queen lies motionless in bed, while her generals plot her counter-attack.

Hopefully, I will be far away from the confines of this city.
Back on the road to Purity.
Where the defenses hold strong and remain impenetrable,
And those who have given control over are safely protected,
And their dreams are comforted....

Where there is no poison...

Your Crafty Beguiling

I feel sick when you're not around.
Much like the way it feels when you are.
Lost in your head,
No trails leading out.
Two fiery hearts, connected to two twisted minds.
Splinters of color,
Flaring like orbs on the 4th of July.
You call me a coward,
But I'm far from it.
It takes a hero to deal with you.
Why? Cause you want it that way.
Spinning delirious like the art-boy smile.
The color slinks and slides from my eyes.
Retreating front lines to the back of my brain.
The competition, it whines and complains.
It pines and it shames,
Like raking your knuckles across the grains.
Stepping away,
And looking ahead.
Good Lord will you grant me
Peace from my head.
Cut the cord,
Don't tow the line,
The lie,
You and I,
As it always was,
Granted it was fun.
But the bed is getting cold,
And the idea of it all is getting old.
The staleness of your touch,
Matches the disinterest in your eyes,
Accompanied by the dullness of your voice,
I see that there's no other choice.
From the perspective of a wound,
Let me heal,
Let me rejoice in the moment surreal.
Give me apathy.
Give me release.
And for the sake of all resentment,
Please give me peace.

Yeah She is Beautiful, But She Don't Mean a Thing To Me...

It's amazing finding this place again.
It still feels the same as it did last.
Last you left, you promised never to return.
But you're foolish and the foolish usually get burned.
You try, try, try, try, and you're suprised when there's letdown?
That's all there is - the letdown.
The scent of the meal still burns your nose,
The smell of the pillow still erupts every morning...taunting you.
Why be a part of the madness that's embraced?
There's no way for a couple of loners to take the place.
When your feet are planted on the ground, it's hard to jump for a rebound.
This is a crucial time.
Evil lurks around the corner and comparisons run wild.
You compare yourself to the otherwise obvious "hidden" guy.
You're not him, and you never will be.
Don't want to be.
You want other things...
Different from the others.
Different people with different faces,
Different circumstances and different places.
Your blood is in the dry soil.
Her blood is in the salt water.
There will be no more wandering fingers on the wondering phone.
There will be no more visions drawn, or pictures taken.
There will be no more whispers through vowels and syllables.
There will be no more passionate acknowledgement of symbols.
There will be no more remorse.
There will be no more love to force.
There will be no more divinity.
There will be no more interruptions.
There will be songs.
They will pierce and twist the stomach of those who hear.
You're the sediment in the bottom of the wine bottle.
You're tired of playing that part.
It breaks your heart.
There will be no more plane rides.
There will be no more tearful goodbyes.
There will be no more support.
There will be no more lies to distort.
Only those who know you will know what you are doing.
Some aren't privy to that information anymore.
Some won't care and some will ignore.
But there's a few things that they must know.
For all that is pure, the ice has started to form.
For every goodbye, I move further away.
For every meltdown, so does my feeling.
Each push on me is a shove further from you.
For every guy, there's always one more.
Every time I see this I get bored.
For every picture the desire fades.
Seeing is believing.
For every story, I have another one.
For every longing there will be less.
And for every crack of my heart you could slip on the mess.
I can promise I never felt it was what I HAD to do.
I can promise it was all by desire that lead me through.
I can promise this is the last reference to you.

I'm telling you boy, the desire is walking out, it's time to go,
And I'm telling you boy ~ this is the moment that you know.

There's a Flood Down in Texas

There's a flood down in Texas.

A flood of emotions that break the levy.

Water's washing over from the south,

Tidal waves crashing from the west coast.

For too long now, in my little canoe, I've fought them both.

I'm so ready to capsize and give in to the flood.

I'm so ready to bleed it dry and fill the water with my blood.

There's no billage pump that's gonna make this dry,

There's no bucket to hold it all and I don't know why.

Peace be with you so they say,

Do what He asks and you'll find your way.

But if peace is not with me,

And confusion is all I find,

Why ask for what I need,

It's all for not, and the gears slowly grind.

If I could listen to those,

Who've navigated this sea,

I'd hear what was best,

Advice that's best for me.

But it's hard to hear when there's water in your ears,

It's hard to listen when you're concentrated on your fears.

You get used to the depth,

You get used to the force.

You get used to the despair,

You get used to the remorse.

It becomes a part of your soul,

And the clouds only bring more.

I take a breath and dive right in,

I'll continue to tread water, until this all ends...

Ahh Fuck...

49 equals the sequenced numbers. Piece-of-shit-large-bet-on-a-bad-hand. What do you do boy? Fold the fuckers before you buy the farm. Listen to those songs, take heed kid, apply the words, you'd be surprised what the outcome brings. Drunken rambling and the thoughts of the denial that twist your mind. Don't forsake your sanity. Don't take it for granted either. Don't drink, it turns on you quickly. Get it the fuck together....

37 equals the sequenced number. Believe your ideals. You're doing the right thing. A coward dies a million deaths, but a real man only dies once. Let the ideals carry you to sanction...to a place where retroactive decisions aren't a bother. Idle fingers are what you need now. Pretend that they're numb. Everybody's thinking about the girl. How can they not? Painkillers don't kill the pain, they only cause delay. Clenched jaw gets sore, sore like the situation. Utterly sore and utterly tiresome. Slow down the higher brain and find numbing activities. For whatever reason, repercussions overcome, don't find yourself in that place again. Swallow the poison pride like you swallowed your drinks and breathe in the insanity...for you have to exhale it tommorrow.

31 equals the sequence of numbers. Grab life and dance wildly with her...she's the one you've drawn from the well. Pull her close to your chest. Feel her breath on your collar. Take her home and discover the morbid regret in the morning when you wake up and roll over. Then usher her out of the back door for her to find rejection and the question "why?" Leave her out in the cold to freeze until she no longer breathes, and can't muster the power to ring the bell on your door. Go back inside, put on your new clothes and go out to find another. One that doesn't look wildly familiar, or for that matter conscious. Find another that tips the doormen instead of stealing their wallet. Drop the awkwardness and pick it up, dust it off, shine it on your shirt, and hold it up to the light. You will see what you want. You will find what you need. You will look to the right and find that sanity is traveling parallel to you, waving its hand in a friendly fashion, showing devotion to the ride.

It's a Blessing

Rehearsal, rehearsal, rehearsal,
My what a tidy fortune reversal.
Explosions in your head, from mortar rounds,
Shaking, and breaking, and falling down.
Trance, empty trance,
Your stupid fucking dance,
The awkward glance,
And the polite chance after chance,
That you might have been given.
But you chose strife,
From your fuck-wasted life,
And the stars shine bright.
What a jump to make,
Into abuse and the fake,
But it's alright,
It's what you like.
Why not lie?
Circumstances to defy,
The world, the first and the very last guy,
Strapped in the chair to burn and fry,
In your school of catatonic despair.
Out in the open air,
From a calm calculated disposition,
The rehearsal determines the transition,
To a completely twisted exposition.
Gather pity from the well...
The well goes dry,
And you wonder why?
There's no reason, no logic,
Behind the reasons or logic,
Just a faulty switch with a nervous twitch,
Turning and twisting the knobs,
Trying to find the correct drag and pitch.
Trying to find default,
But to no avail,
The psyche turns and swells,
And for those around, a living Hell.
My my, what a change in perception.
What a misconception.
All around and in and out,
Change is about!
Can't say it's not time,
Can't sit and bleed and whine.
The lights don't have the time,
You must look your best,
Better than the rest...
After all you are, right?
Condescension is a powerful ally,
One you call friend,
Hoping it will be there until the bitter end,
But it doesn't make for a good bed mate,
It's nature turns on you and bites and berates.
Something you can't handle,
The betrayal, the flail,
Master your trade and completely fail.
Put off your pheremones,
The smell of fear,
Mixed in a drink of dramatics and tears.
Don't let your looks run away,
They'll save you some day.
Don't be bothered by the nuisance of life,
Get away, you only have time for paradise.
Lose yourself in yourself,
Why not?
Why stop?
Why forgive and forget, and untie the knots?
It would be too easy,
You need it for the fire,
Like a fuel for guilty ire.
Let it burn and sustain,
Let it form and contain,
Let it sear in the brain.
Deal it out, peddle the beggars,
I'll take a pass.
Maybe next time, or maybe not,
All for this and all you've bought.
Cashed in and got comped,
With destiny by your side,
And the smiling genocide.
What's that they say about nothing,
If you ain't got it, you got nothing to lose?
Or was it nothing that lost you...
With your thoughts, expressions, and the false self to conceal,
It's what Bob Dylan said babe, "How does it feel..."

A Fond Farewell to a Friend

The LiteBrite's now black and white,
Cause they took apart a picture that wasn't right.
Pitch burning on a shining sheet,
The only maker that you'd wanna meet.
A dying man in a living room,
Whose shadow paces the floor,
He’ll take you out any open door.

This is not my life...

It's just a fond farewell to a friend,
It's not what I'm like.
It's just a fond farewell to a friend,
I couldn't get things right.
A fond farewell to a friend...

Said, "really I just wanna dance,"
Good and evil matched perfect, it's a great romance.
I can deal with some psychic pain,
If it'll slow down my higher brain.
Veins full of disappearing ink,
Vomiting in the kitchen sink.
Disconnecting from the missing link...

This is not my life...

It's just a fond farewell to a friend,
It's not what I'm like.
It's just a fond farewell to a friend,
I couldn't get things right.
A fond farewell to a friend...

I see you're leaving me, and taking up with the enemy,
The cold comfort of the in between,
A little less than a human being.
A little less than a happy high,
A little less than a suicide,
The only things that you really tried...

This is not my life...

It's just a fond farewell to a friend,
It's not what I'm like.
It's just a fond farewell to a friend,
Who couldn't get things right.

Acceptance

I accept it as it is.
I accept it as it was.
I accept it as it's going to be.

I accepted you as you are.
I accepted you as you were.
I accept you as you're going to be.

Accept me as I am.
Accept me as I was.
Accept me.

It's over for all, except me...

Reflecting the Lunar Ghosts

Felt a hand, over my brow

Caressing as the moon hung low.

There's sillhouettes casting a dance on the water,

Alcohol flows through the veins,

And a warm smile...all the while,

The apparitions float,

Inches above slowly lifting fog,

Riding the streams set by the dark.

Moonbeams reflect off your hair like silver.

Tinsel streaks on the horizon...

The face of our minds,

Stuck in a time...better times...that we only knew...

Out of the blue, come visions of me and you,

You and I,

Riding high, the sandman flies...

To put you to rest, on the weight of my breath,

Deliver the dreams of a deep sleep,

Letting go of the constant anxiety...

In a blurry scene, lights are fading,

The sun goes down, the moon comes up,

Headlights greet us as cars kick up the dust.

He's smiling at us,

The great silvery globe,

Smiling on things that you, and I, and only he knows...

Smiling on the will of the free,

Smiling on serenity,

Smiling on divinity,

Smiling on you and me...

Casting beams of fluidity,

The dancing shadows digress,

As you twirl in your silver dress,

To my slowly opening eyes,

The world outside....it laughs, it cries,

The heart inside me...it burns of fire,

Forming and changing constant desire...

We're sleepwalking hand in hand,

To the sound of an esoteric band, with the reverb on high,

The sounds start to fly,

Taking you with me, to the scattering of stars in the infinity.

I can't form the words out of the ether,

I can't hold the things you want me to hold,

I can't be the couragoues, or the brave, or the bold...

I can only make the things last,

As a fixture in my past.

Scenes of faultlines on the crest of my soliloquy,

Remind myself that you will forever haunt me...

Infirmary For The Heart

Started the day,
In the same way.
Left leg in first,
Right shoe on last.

I didn't think today,
I didn't feel any way.
I just sat there,
And forced it away.

The breeze helps cleanse,
The wounds of my sins,
Clearing the gloss,
I'm cutting my losses.

Rightfully thankful,
Delightfully blessed.
I've found some relief,
I'm finding some rest.

One step at a time,
I'm gonna be fine.
I'm sewing it up,
It only takes time.

I'm writing this prose,
For who only knows.
But when it is through,
It won't be for you...

ACL

ACL

ACL

ACL

ACL

ACL Pics

For the Love of Music

ACL - what a fucking grand time! I could type a 4 page essay of all the ongoings from this weekend, but I won't...because I'm lazy. Rest assured that a good time was had. Saw The Arcade Fire, Built to Spill, Bloc Party, Death Cab, The Walkmen, Rilo Kiley, Cory Morrow (why I don't know - maybe because my sister and I wanted to see Kathleen Edwards and the bitch pulled out), Wilco. Heard from a distance - The Bravery, The Decemberists, Oasis, The South Austin Jug Band, Robert Randolph, shit man, I can't even remember.

There was so much good music, and I drank SO much whiskey...I even smoked fucking weed for the first time in at least two-and-a-half to three years during The Walkmen, and I was TOTALLY convinced that they were the best band of all time...at the time. That was odd...but fun I suppose. I'm sure karma will rear its ugly head, and I will be asked to pee in a cup at work soon...better start shoring up the resume!

I really enjoyed seeing everybody that I ended up seeing. It was a random collection of people. There were people from my high school that I saw this weekend, from college, from my fraternity (yes I was in a fucking fraternity), from my first job in Dallas, from my current job in Dallas, random people in a random place.

I especially enjoyed hanging with my sister this weekend and dolling over life, love, happiness, and what they all mean to us and everyone. She's got a cool place and I wish I could find an apartment that cool up here for that price...anywho, we came to the conclusion that we may never find love...because it's fucking scary and twisted. Of course this was after a few shots and several beers, AND meeting her married friend who came out with us, sans wedding ring. Now why would you do that? I just don't fucking understand. If you don't love that person, or there was a possibility this would happen, why did you get married? Now realize, I don't know people's motivations and their reasons for doing the things they do, but that in itself is what is so fucking scary and twisted about love. My sister has decided against marriage for the time being, but on the other hand, she also decided against a hot dog in favor of a twelve inch club sandwich when we left the bar to harness the "drunken munchies," at 3:00 in the morning (one in which she actually put potato chips inside the sandwich...not as a delightful treat with the sandwich)! Parallel logic?

Maybe...Ryan Adams says don't give up on love (now he's not the only one to say that, but he's fucking cool so he's my point of reference) and I seem to never do, but I tell you what, I'm a damn sight more apprehensive about it now. You hold your hand over a candle long enough, it's going to get burned...but just as burns go, the heart heals as well. Maybe that's why we shouldn't give up...I really don't know. I really don't know anything on this matter anymore. I'm back in kindergarten again, learning the ABC's of "love curriculum."

Fuck what a goofy non-sequitor...anyways, we went to the Trojan VIP After Party at the Velvet Spade on 6th...I think (it was 6th or 7th). Allegedly, there were band members from Coldplay and the Arcade Fire there, but I suppose I was too drunk to notice any of them. Not that I would anyways. The Arcade Fire has an army of a band, like ten of them, and Coldplay is only Chris Martin to me...so if it wasn't him, I wouldn't have known.

I now have about 80 mint-flavored condoms...I have never seen such a high concentration of condoms in one place. It was really amazing...in the awe-struck kind of way. My buddy and I were walking by this 3x5 cardboard box, brimful of condoms, and I told him, "Man, there's alot of sex in that box." To which he replied, "I wish I could have alot of sex with someone's box...." HA...toilet humor...outstanding. I felt like such an elitist at that party. I was walking downstairs when one of our friends would get there and tell the doorman, "Oh they're with me." And they would let them walk right by...I was special for a night! Thanks goes out to Robert for that privilege, wish you could've been there!

I stayed in Austin on Sunday night after the Wilco show, because I was pretty certain I was going to wrap my truck around a telephone pole before I even got to Waco. So I had the excitement of getting up at 5am and driving back to Dallas to get to work on time...slid into homebase at 8:30 on the dot (my required time for arrival). Felt like shit all day Monday, but I am glad I stayed on Sunday night to get some sort of rest, and I'm getting my legs underneath me now and have finally rid myself of dust boogers, and "miner's lung."

I'll leave you with something Jeff Tweedy said...

"The biggest problem with American music today is, it has no soul. This weekend, I see a whole lot of fucking soul in one place. Go spread it through the streets."

I will Jeff....I will....

Cory Will

PS - Pictures to come.

Austin City Limits

And if the rain comes down,
let it rain on me...

I'm headed to the Austin City Limits Festival this weekend and I can't wait. I've been fidgeting in my cube for the past few days, playing air-guitar on my leg thinking about all the sweet-ass bands I'm going to get to see. Bloc Party, Wilco, the Black Crowes, The Arcade Fire, Oasis, Death Cab, Franz Ferdinand, Keane, Built to Spill, The Walkmen, Kaiser Chiefs, Jason Mraz, Rilo Kiley, The Bravery, Kathleen Edwards, Doves, so many more. Man this is going to fucking rule!!

The ONLY problem is that I may have to bring my kayak, because Mother Nature has decided to date-rape us again with her delightful hurricanes. First Katrina, and now Rita. They were such wonderful names before...like Rita Hayworth, and Katrina something-or-other, but they will forever be known as names for mass destruction. I hear there's a mass-exodus out of Houston right now, so that might hinder my ability to get down there at a decent time. I think I might drive through Brady...don't know yet.

Can you imagine being one of those poor canasta's from New Orleans. "Uh, excuse me. You need to leave RIGHT NOW because there's a hurricane on its way and it's going to wipe your city off the face of the Earth." "Here go to Houston, it'll be safe there...." "Ummm, excuse me again.....I hope you've enjoyed your stay in Houston, it's lovely to have you here, but you need to leave RIGHT NOW because there's a hurricane on it's way and it's going to wipe your temporary home off the face of the Earth...." Poor bastards, they're being stalked by hurricanes...just move to Phoenix folks.

I'm pretty jacked about the concert, and no amount of rain is going to stop me from enjoying the bands. I'll wear floaties if need be, but I ain't missin' it. I also get to see my sister's new place. Haven't had the opportunity to get down there since she moved to Austin so that will be a pleasantry added to the trip. I'm packing my galoshes and my scuba gear and heading down tommorrow night after I can get out of this shithole. If anyone is going, give me a ring and we'll all have to meet up in Austin...I plan on having a higher category blood alcohol content this weekend than Rita's Category 5. By the way, thanks goes out to Robert for getting us into the Trojan VIP after party!!! What the fuck, HAHAHA!! We're VIP's at the Trojan after party....outstanding! If anyone needs a box of condoms, let me know.

You Are The Bluest Light,

Cory Will

Nights Like These

The beer tastes like blood and my mouth is numb
I can't make the words I need to say
She had a weakness for writers
And I was never that good at the words anyways

I Feel Like I Am Going To Die

Finding out myself, the things I've torn apart,
Bleeding like a sieve, bleeding from the heart.
Sell me the drug to get away from here,
Just in time, I've lost my mind, and staking claim to fear.

It stings...like a sad girl and her revenge,
Far from the start,
Far be it from the end.

It feels like a million steps to the door,
Pounding heart, broken little boy.
I couldn't call her if I wanted,
Her number left my phone.

Kings and queens of coolness,
I'm a jester in the court.
Gave up the crown,
Turned around,
And felt the tension pour.

It stings...like a sad girl and her revenge,
Far from the start,
Far be it from the end.

I wanna be away,
Somewhere in the sun,
Listen to bands who make me smile,
With a girl beginning to run.

I've said it a million times,
I can't do anything.
But why can't I believe that?
And change the way it stings.

It stings...like a sad girl and her revenge,
Far from the start,
Far be it from the end...

I wish I would've had breakfast with you.
Maybe had a chance to talk this through.
Over morning water and presidence,
I might have found forgiveness.

I made my own bed...now sleepless in it I lie...

My New Favorite Song

If you get a chance go to this website and watch the video for "Wagon Wheel."

If you don't like this song, something is wrong with you!!

www.crowmedicine.com

It's a band called Old Crow Medicine Show and the song rocks my ass!

The Fall of Man

But I cry to you for help oh Lord,
in the morning my prayer comes before you.
Why, oh Lord, do you reject me,
and hide your face from me?

From my youth I have been afflicted and close to death;
I have suffered your terrors and am in despair.
Your wrath has swept over me;
your terrors have destroyed me.
All day long they surround me like a flood;
they have completely engulfed me.
You have taken my companions and loved ones from me;
the darkness is my closest friend.

When we fell from grace, in the dawn of Genesis and the cradle of Eden, surely what they felt carried an uneasiness about it. Surely, the weight of damnation fell on their shoulders...cursing the ancestry and lineage to come. Why is it that God separated himself from our visions, from our consciouseness? Why did He make himself invisible, where He was once visible. Why is it that He left us to flail in doubt and within the corridors of uncertainty to turn our brains inside out searching for the reconnection...the absolution. Why did He do this? Why did they fail to understand His purpose? Why couldn't the two sides meet on compromising terms, and if they did, why didn't one or the other hold up their end of the compromise? Why do thought's exist? Why is it that we have the blessing and curse of knowing that someday we will not exist in this consciouseness? Why is it we learn in increments of pain? Why is it we are so intrinsically secured to finding meaning? What is He doing? I don't know any of these things, even though I ponder them all the time...

I do know these two things for certain...

GOD DOES EXIST AND HE WILL BRING HIS WRATH....

JESUS DOES EXIST AND HE WILL BRING HIS MERCY....

Frustrated Incorporated

With your suicide kings and your drama queens,
Forever after happily, making misery...

What a great song from the mid-90's when radio played songs that weren't coming back around on the rotation 12 songs after. Too bad the guy from Soul Asylum died...they weren't my favorite band, but their songs kind of take me back to that little town in the middle of Texas.

Anyways, the reason I'm frustrated (at this present point in time), is my guitar is broken. It died in my arms about a week or two ago. Well, actually it died on my naked lap while sitting on my couch playing songs for myself in the living room. So there I am, putting on a concert for myself, half-naked (only my boxers on), and the damn thing starts making a noise that sounded like the sound effects from the game Asteroids on the Atari 2600. After shaking the guitar, frantically turning knobs and pick-up switches, the piece of shit decides to shock me. I suppose it was tired of the abuse I was giving it and decided to retaliate. Then there's a loud pop, and I pull the chord out, take the guitar off of my lap to avoid electrocution in my own living room, and turn the amp off. I open the back up like a surgeon about to perform open heart surgery on my Les Paul, and a mini-plume of smoke comes out of what could be considered the chest cavity of my guitar. Upon seeing this and the charred wires that function as the central nervous system, my prognosis was death on arrival.

OBITUARY - "Dehlila" (The name of my guitar) 1999-2005

Born 1999 in Lubbock, Texas at Jent's Music, Dehlila served as the musical embodiment of Cory Will for the better part of six years. She lived a productive life, participating in several bands, with her longest stint in the band "The Fratastics." Serving as the rythym guitar, she provided many drunk fraternity parties the ability to process what song was coming through high-decibel amps and served as a hearty backdrop to many solos for a Mexican Telecaster. A very reliable guitar, she rarely fell out of tune and often endured a fair amount of abuse from her drunken owner who was too lazy to put her back in her case after a show, because he was more occupied with getting completely wasted and trying to make out with girls at various bars and fraternity parties. Battled bridge problems at one time and had a stint at The Guitar Garage being repaired by a nutjob named Wally who often took $2.57 and a stick of Wintergreen gum as his payment. She was preceeded in death by a "State of the Art" beginner's guitar, and a Silvertone 1956 acoustic. Survived in death by her soulmate, a Peavy Studio Pro 60 amp, and her newly found love, a Lab Series L7 amp with 4 ten-inch speakers. Married to the Peavy for years, her relationship blossomed with the L7 not long before her death. She will be missed by all. She is buried with a 7M3 sticker and a set list from the Beach Bums party taped to her back.

Rest in Peace...

Things Enjoyed By Cory Will

Family, the outdoors, Bloc Party, the 1st song on the Bloc Party CD, Oh Brother Where Art Thou, Alisha, Alisha's accent, my sister (she's a lovely person), girls, people who don't lie, bottle rockets, hunting, Ryan Adams (I wish my life was his), being primal in nature, Brady, the ranch, snow crab legs, dancing in the rain, rainy days, sunny days, when it rains during sunny days, Lonesome Dove, the word "INDEED", folsom prison blues, hearing from old friends, being a bleeding heart, my fraternity brothers, playing in a band, especially when that band includes twins and a guy named Joe, beer, being drunk in public, hitting on nice girls, nice girls hitting on me, my cousin Will (top five funniest people I know), Eric (showing me different lifestyles), blue heeler puppies, playing the guitar, writing songs that strike the heart, writing songs that strike the hearts of people I know, having a whacked-out-interesting mind like John Paul, lovers, clear complexion, Texas Tech football, Texas A&M losing at anything, breakfast tacos, striving for Christ-like actions, Mom's home-made meals, painkillers, a good job, people who make me feel worthy, Meredith Whitworth (angel on Earth), Knob Creek whiskey, Dr. Graves and his daughter, learning, reading insightful material, the Sopranos, Christmas with my family, Texas, Central Texas, old black men, my truck, Spin magazine, fishing, my best friends, PF Changs, the PF Changs in Austin, The Blue Light, beagles, being human, mad cats, my "good side", drawing pictures for people I care about, Great Expectations, falling madly-ass-stupidly-in-love, revenge, not being broke, the lyric "if I had a simple love, how would it feel and what would it mean", watermelon, Austin Texas, sleeping, dreaming of you when I sleep, The New Pornographers, how I should have written half of the Shins' songs, Apocalypse Now, Natalie Portman, my dreams about Natalie Portman, Top Gun, Natalie Portman's naked picture below in my blog, Vernon Texas, the Hill Country, being out on the lake, intestinal fortitude, my family history, my old (and gone) friend Celeste, how there are no divorces in my family, singing at the top of my lungs in my truck, dominating at NCAA Football, Matt Hinz and his pessimism, keeping things in check, Deadwood, Epiphone, my uncle Kyle, pictures of bands, showers (at least three a day), Goat Cook-Off, my friend Brendan, roller coasters (aka, the Titan at Six Flags), Six Flags, low light, Old Nine Road, Fuzion Frenzy, Monopoly, Monopoly money, drinking games, JFK, my camera, my father's silent intelligence, randomness, boobies, Colorado, having your alcohol tab covered because you look like you're in love, Aaron Rutherford, the fifty yard line of the TCU football field, running, smoking, smoking while your running, Vicodin, the 4th of July, college, creativity, grammatical perfection, Rachel's blog, my pair of white soccer shorts, Labyrinth, the Minnesota Vikings, alone time, text messaging, the sound my phone makes when I'm texted by you, computers not crashing, the "Grand Love of Corin," Kings of Leon, Laissez Faire, nihilism, honesty, Kyla, red dirt, my blood, telecasters, Heavens Golden Shores, tattoos on girls, this blog, the harmonica on Neil Young's "Heart of Gold," the South Tank, making out with girls at the South Tank, getting high by myself at the South Tank, Angel perfume, defying the devil, Sui Dreams perfume, My Morning Jacket, having a young man's mind with an old man's soul, sunsets, crosses, diving boards, the Bible, trampolines, "break the egg game" on trampolines, gettting fucking wasted out of my gourd, water, old Saturday Night Live, phone calls from drunk people late at night, CS Lewis, "The Weight"-by The Band ("Take a load off Annie," you know), my Mom, Spring Break, jeans that fit like a fucking glove, back scratches AND butt rubs, my Abercrombie and Fitch poster that takes up a whole wall, Jenny P and the gap in her teeth, fly fishing, Oh Noble Eric, Wilco, sex, Yellow Ledbetter (if you can name a better song, I dare you), Bob Dylan, Church, letting go, spicy chicken wings, the thought of California, Hemmingway, Hunter S. Thompson, doing what you want within the realms of sanity, the song "Devil's Waitin'" on the new Black Rebel Motorcycle Club album, Norman Mailer, trusting God, airtech floor fans, Fight Club, grad school, riding bikes, opening my eyes every morning, the necklace my Mom gave me in junior high, black bracelets, The Jayhawks, knowing the unknown, little kids, lifeguarding, tennis, basketball, playing tennis on a basketball court, falling through ceilings, bar-b-q (Hard 8 in particular....turkey to die for), Kentucky Beau, my best friend Jason, doing nice things for people, correctly tuned guitars, having nice things done for me, C's burrito's, quitting shitty jobs, dominating the realm of consciousness, smoking cigarettes, my journal, Simon, 300 thread-count sheets, popcorn, Star Wars, being on time, being skinny and in shape, Walt Whitman, World War II, my grandfather I never knew, Gospel music, Josh Rouse, Johnny Cash, air conditioning, sleeping outside, sleeping with your special someone outside, fucking lists that are too long, beating myself down, blue eyes, brunettes, Igby Goes Down, freckles, Pulp Fiction, He-Man (I have the power...mutha fucka), Jessi Moore, batteries that can be recharged, thrift stores, electric razors, my five-o-clock shadow, the Maxell picture of the guy sitting in a chair and the sound from the stereo blowing his hair back, Odis (well not really), winks of sarcasm, people reading this and getting pissed, Atlanta Braves, Dale Murphy in particular, Australia (although I've never been there), my clock radio, that new Gorillaz song (THAT'S A FUCKING JAM), 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, exceeding expectations, the new Bright Eyes Album (I'm Wide Awake bitches), Dan Fogleberg, Calvin the Second, swings (especially at Rochelle High School), being crude, my Grandmother's hugs, paranoia, trips to Missourri, Tigger, smoker's meow, acting stupid, being with someone who matches you in every way, dealing with it when they don't, playing music with my musical family (even if it is Sleepwalker every time), Joe Namath, Gary Cooper, Only Living Boy In New York, new babies in my family, sarcasm.........AND LIFE IN ALL ITS WONDER....


Cory Will

Nuclear

"So this is where the summer ends...
In a flash of pure destruction no one wins."

I always know when summer is over. There are signs. One being the opening day of dove season. As the weather cools, the migration starts. Even the birds know when summer is over and it's time to move on to the warmer plains of Mexico and South America. Another sign is the football hysteria. It's that time between the dog days of August, when you're body is crippled from the summer heat and the northerner's blowing in, giving you a revival in your muscles. You feel like hitting something, or someone...I guess that's why football works so well this time of year. The final sign, for me, is Labor Day weekend. Where I come from, Labor Day ranks, with some, on the same tier with Christmas and Thanksgiving. It's the perfect bookend for a summer, and it always offers an interesting last chapter to your summer's whether they were good or not.

In most cases, Labor Day weekend mirrors the summer's I've had. It surely did this year. I enjoyed my summer...at times. I was able to do some things I'd never been able to do, start new friendships, and ultimately lost a few people who meant so much to me, but all's well that end's well, and this summer did just that. So the prep comes for the fall and it will slide into winter soon enough. I like the fall, and it's reflective nature. It allows you to settle your mind a bit and concentrate on the all the going's on in your life.

I'm expecting things to look up this fall. They have to, really. The summer, although good, may rank as one of the most violently introspective times of my life. There were parts that were not easy by any means, and the hangover from them will probably last awhile, but as the saying goes, "time heals all wounds." I think the seasons start and end right when they should. Just when you're tired of one the other comes around and I love that. As in life, when you're tired and worn down by something, there is always a refresher that gives you a new start...a blank slate. In some ways, I am a blank slate, and although this is scary on so many levels, it's also exciting. Getting to know friends again that I haven't really spent any time with over the last year or so is fucking awesome. But equally awesome is the new people you meet. Different opinons and views that are often intriguing and sometimes not, but different anyways. I'm ready for the fall. I hope it's ready for me.

If anyone gets a chance they should buy the new Black Rebel Motorcycle Club album, HOWL. Even though their name is somewhat lame, the album is great. Spin called it the new "Nebraska" (of course being Springsteen's venture into Americana). I really like it and it's pretty introspective. Anywhooo....

Cory Will

How Awesome Are Our LIVES!!!

Well, there's one more in the archives for "Goat Cook-Off's Lived Through." Like my friend Rachel has said, they are a little more tame than in years past. In college, there were GCO's that could have easily been spliced into some Spring Break party reel, without anybody being the wiser, and believe me, my crew probably pushes the limits more than any other, but even we have been docile, by our own standards. This year could be classified and summarized in one single word..."strange."

Strange in the way that home almost doesn't feel like home anymore...not the home of family and territory, but home in the sense of people. The people you used to know and how they have evolved and in some cases, not at all. Maybe the biggest change is my perspective, and how I've changed. My priorities are MUCH different than that of my former peers now. A great number of them have taken one turn in the road, while I have taken the exact opposite. I may turn down that way one day, but not now. There are so many of my old peers who have these life changing turns of event taking them in a different direction than I.

It was weird in a way to hear these people that I used to know talk of things that are completely foreign to me. Babies, marriage, loss, despair, unemployment, gainful employment, signing up for war, just coming home from war, and so on. It definitely seemed to vary between the stable and unstable...and it's funny the times of night that you run into the majority of both of these groups. One early and the other late. So what does that make me? Somewhere in between or just a passing spectator who can't sleep because he doesn't want to miss anything? Who knows...

The strangest part of GCO was definitely a run-in with an old acquaintance who I used to be real close to, but have grown far apart from over the years. And by far, I mean hopelessly non-existent. It's hard to see someone who used to be a part of your life, a once decidedly large part of it, in the folds of despair. You want to help the person, but at the same time, it's also one of those things that you want to say, "Hey, you made your own bed...I guess you're the one who has to lie in it." Only a complete idiot would touch the situation I was presented...it's basically a wildfire waiting to burn me to ash, and there's absolutely no way I will involve myself in anything with relevance to it. Not to mention the fact that I have no desire to, but it's almost sad to see someone in this state. Dillusional, and flailing. Odd the scenarios in our heads are. I guess the lesson to remember is that no matter how far along you've moved from someone or something, there is always someone who is holding on to you...and how things were at that time...for better or for worse. It's really sad, and not sad in a pathetic way (although, I guess it could be perceived that way), it's more sad as sympathetic for that person's well-being. Believe me, this person is in a bad place and they want me to help them out of it, but there is absolutely no way I can help this person...none. It's really sad...

Anyways, enough about that. I've got to get some sleep, because I probably consumed somehwere in the neighborhood of 60-70 beers this weekend and slept a total of approximately 7 hours total from the time I got off of work on Friday till Monday night. A good question was asked this weekend by one of my friends, "Cory, do you think we'll ever grow up?" No...no I don't...and I will do everything in my power to keep from it...

Cory Will

Labor Day Pics

Awaken! Life Breathes NEW!

Welcome to your life Campbell Jacob Hendricks! You were born last night at 11:55pm, September 1st, 2005. You have a head of dark hair and blue eyes, and you weighed 8 pounds 8 ounces. You're parents are walking tall, with pride in their eyes, and love in their hearts. Your grandparents are watching their lives' purpose unfold with your arrival. You will be surrounded with love and support that surpasses anything you will ever be able to imagine. God molded you with His hands, and with His hands He will direct the events of your life. The road ahead is long, and filled with promise and surprise! I haven't even met you yet, but I love you, and I will be there for you little man!!

With love and bright eyes full of the wonders of life,

Cory Will

The Undoing...

"Where'd you go pyscho boy?"

"I felt like being destroyed by something beautiful..."

"Well, let's get you to the hospital. They'll know what to do."

"Where have you been?"

"Middle of a fucking tornado...tornado of doubt and despair...flailing for meaning..."

"Why are you here?"

"To take you back..."

"Back where?"

"To where you belong. The place you were before this."

"Where is that?"

"It's a place you left long ago, and have forgotten about since. It's not your fault...you were blindsided...you had no preparation, no defense."

"How will we get there?"

"It's gonna take some time, and it's gonna hurt, but we'll get there...and it will be better than you remembered. Better than it once was. I've prepared a bed for your rest, and when you wake, you will be surrounded by the one's you love, they will prepare medication for you, they will welcome you back, like the coming home of the son and brother. A feast has been prepared for you, and when you're ready, we'll sit and eat together...as one again."

"I don't understand."

"I know you don't...and you won't for awhile...it's misunderstanding that pushed you way out here in the first place. You need rest...of the heart and mind...and I have it for you...I always have. There's nobody to count on...not anymore. The only one you can count on is me. I will always be the one to give you ease, to give you confidence, to restore the faith in yourself that you once had."

"I still don't understand. I'm where I need to be, all the events of my life have lead me to this point."

"You're right about that...but one thing you've got to understand is you've been disconnected. From hope, from recourse, from sanity. You need my help...and it's time I came to you...way past time."

"Why?"

"The storm is over...and it's time to pick up the pieces. I will help you with that, must I reiterate that I am the only one you can rest your hopes on."

"How will I know when I get there?"

"You'll know. I'll let you know...and it will happen. Right now we've got to get your mind in focus, for it's been out of focus for too long. We've got to set you straight. Aim the right way, and follow the steps, one at a time. We'll get there."

"How can I trust you?"

"I'm the only one you can trust. I am the only one you've trusted your whole life, and I will continue to be the one who holds your trust. There is no other."

"Surely that's not the case?"

"I wish it weren't my friend...but you've got to let that go. Get that out of your mind. I will lead you in the right direction. I promise."

"Well...I guess I don't have anything to lose by listening to you."

"Exactly...you have nothing. There is nothing...and you can't lose nothing....drop it now....right here and right now, drop it...drop the pressure."

"If you think it's the right idea......then okay."

"Take my hand...we've got so much to do...and we'll do it."

"Who are you?"

"I'm you..."