| Last call. |
[Oct. 26th, 2008|06:26 pm] |
I was never a miracle, that's bullshit; sometimes I’m full of shit the majority of the time. You make up your own mind. I don't know how to say what I need to say sometimes and I miss everything, miss everyone, miss myself. I'm done picking up books to put them back down, folding my laundry wishing I could say sorry wondering when the last time I felt something was.
Starting over here, more to come.
I need to talk, I’m weak. I'm dreaming of letters better than entire months, movies in bed, messy morning hair, laughing, real communication, being in awe, wanting to do your very best, no more lies. We’re soft--blowing on coffee when it’s too hot, lay down some bricks and build, the meaning will come later, you can clean up your own messes now.
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| 1. |
[Sep. 24th, 2008|02:21 am] |
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Everyone is beautiful okay? |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 10th, 2008|09:13 pm] |
Sometimes rainbow, sometimes cotton candy piss yellow brown black. In between life with your seat belt on, stopping for some coffee while kissing your face and forgetting everything but making appointments. Shameless self promotion, spending problem, drug habit, beautiful life. Soft sleep in the afternoon, you’re sweet and i’m lies and ghost ships. Oyster shell, sand in between the toes, pop music, you fucker. I set sail, I wish I would.
My name is Eric. I do not miss anything anymore.
prescience@gmail.com

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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 20th, 2008|08:25 pm] |
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broken. breaking. broken. fading out, and life goes on.

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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 3rd, 2008|07:04 pm] |
Every building a home, and every building the last one, I will ever set foot in.
Sunday, sunset joins the conversation, with deserts and mountains, on your left. Gravel, sipping liquid through a straw smile, and clearing your throat, on your right, may I please take your order?
Development, twigs, kissing, pieces of hair, it is so nice to finally meet you. Where have you been all my life? I was busy! With brown chalk landscapes, dusk, and do you want me to turn the light out? Sleeping late, sore throat, I am just trying to survive, eat enough crumbs, to keep alive, and save some for you too.
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| This is one for the good days. |
[Oct. 11th, 2007|11:02 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Life in Rainbows. | ] | New Radiohead opinions anyone?
All I know is that on the way to work listening to videotape for the first time, my whole body got the chills, and i wanted so badly to live and to die, and I really enjoy the whole emphasis on media, because I find myself, so unsure of what really matters, and what actions really mean, and how much perception has to do with everything. If you could watch yourself couldn't you realize that every little thing you do is beautiful and ugly and perfect and worth apologizing for? At the same time there is this constant saying "I can't believe I said that, I can't believe I did that" Shutup, Eric Shaw.
This is who you are and you can't change the way the chemicals inside your body and brain fire every instant creating decisions and opinions that mean nothing, and everything, and something in between. I am so up and down it's sick, and I don't trust myself, but that is not the point. The point is we're all still breathing and not dead yet, and what are you going to do about that?
I need to discuss modern technology and it's effect on the dilemma of purpose in life, and also John From Cincinnati, and also Carnivale, and also airplanes, and trees, and oxygen, and clouds.
I also am buying a full vertical piano from someone at work. I figure even if I forget how to speak or my face and teeth rot away like they do, at least i'll still be able to show you how I feel with fingers on keys echoing out all the things I should have said, speaking for all the people I should have been.
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 30th, 2007|08:32 pm] |
My name is Eric Shaw and I am twenty one years old.
I have been trying to write an entry for weeks but can't put five words together. It's like trying to explain to someone that you've lost your voice when you can't speak.
I would like to talk to you if you have anything you want to say.
prescience@gmail.com

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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 7th, 2007|11:48 pm] |
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well i'm fucking done. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 13th, 2007|09:18 pm] |
It came so close to working out.
I was almost, beautiful.
Then,
There is the life you thought you were going to have,
Then,
There is your life waiting for you,
patiently.
And i'm still kind of
ugly.
And now,
Someone saying that they have missed you Someone saying that they really think you are a unique, noteworthy, individual.
And I say,
Sorry,
my mouth is bleeding.
Maybe we're waking up, from the worst night of our lives.
Then,
The light turns green,
And, You go.
Please Visit www.socomeonhome.com/
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