words are not secrets

4th of july. so uninspired. listening to nirvana all day, the unplugged album, never noticed how simply beautiful the songs were.

it's 1120pm and i'm drinking coffee and eating cookies. we waltzed over to the east river tonight to catch some fireworks. i don't get it. exploding lights in the sky and i'm supposed to feel patriotic? it only amplified my disgust with the world and our inability to vocalize our true feelings because we are all tied to some source of artificial light. music is the only weight that can pull me out of this state.

i've been spending lots of time in my front room sitting with my stereo, finally able to play loud music now that i'm out of my psychiatric ward of an apartment in the marina in san francisco :) the sounds filter into me individually. i am hearing things i've never heard before.

i got the latest devendra banhart. i don't get all his comparisons to tim buckley. he sounds like nick drake but without the depression and with that a lack of heart felt depth or pained emotion. if a man is going to sit with an acoustic guitar and weep and whisper, i at least want to cry over it...no such luck here. but there is still something lovable about the album

i've got bright eyes on right now. his songs have been creeping into my system more and more as of late. Something intimate and vulnerable about him that i need right now.



it's time to go. there is a draft of air coming up from the street that smells like piss. that sucks. oh yeah. new york is rubbing off on me. after the millionth lame man commenting at me this evening i was so fed up that i actually yelled 'fuck you' at someone and stormed off. i've not really done that before and i can see it happening more in that future. wish me luck.

god i love this city

god bless you and your crippled heart.



xo

kim