“I like the dark part of the night, after midnight and before four-thirty, when it’s hollow, when ceilings are harder and farther away. Then I can breathe, and can think while others are sleeping, in a way can stop time, can have it so – this has always been my dream – so that while everyone else is frozen, I can work busily about them, doing whatever it is that needs to be done, like the elves who make the shoes while children sleep.”—Dave Eggers, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (via atramentum)
Tonight I get to see Loma Prieta and RAEIN. I am an ungrateful cunt because I am feeling depressed and antisocial and would actually be happy to ring in the new year alone listening to their albums instead. Ffuck I hope I snap out of this mood ASAP.
He’d gotten tired of Christmas parties and New Year’s parties and birthdays, and payments on new cars and furniture payments — light, gas, water — the whole bleeding complex of necessities.
He’d gotten tired and quit, that’s all. The divorce came soon enough and the drinking came soon enough, and suddenly he was out of it. He had nothing, and he found out that having nothing was difficult too. It was another type of burden. If only there were some gentler road in between. It seemed a man only had two choices — get in on the hustle or be a bum.
She sleeps clutching herself, afraid that her skeleton will break of her skin. Sobbing through dreams, laughing through nightmares; living and dying through slumber, waiting to be born again. A bed of cold water, swimming in sick; frozen limbs, bones pressing through her skin. Sinking her teeth in deep, spilling her blood onto her grey sheets. “Ache with me, please.” She begs her ghosts, with outstretched arms; despairing in their blank gaze, eternally.
These knives are softer than broken dreams Blood and tears are on the floor I can’t remember a time when I was good at something I wear this tigersuit ‘cause I’m a fuckin’ lamb Blood and tears are on the floor I start to lick ‘em They’re my daily bread.