Worst. Halloween. EVER.

I was supposed to go to Rocky Horror Picture Show at Higher Ground with some friends. I show up, Christine tells me that they're checking for IDs and the show is 18+ (I knew this already, but I figured they'd let me in). So I agreed for me to wait until the show was over to hang out. So I called up Ashley, to see if she could hang out. She was trick-or-treating, but going home soon. So I while I waited for her to get home, I went and got a vanilla latte from Starbucks. However, when I returned to my car, I discovered I had locked my keys in the ignition. It took me an hour and a half to get a coat hanger (with the help of all the security guards at Higher Ground and the merch guy for Lotus). I got my keys, by then it was too late to see Ashley, so I waited a little more. I drove around Burlington for a bit, but concluded I absolutely hate driving there. So I went home. I stopped in Montpelier to see if anything was going on or if anyone I knew was out. There was something going on at the Langdon Street Cafe, but it was too late for me to do anything. So I finally went home.

I guess it could have been worse.

-Matt

"A Heart I Scribbled on a Sheet of Paper"

Are you so eager to die,
That you'd fill your lungs with smoke?
Don't try to tell me you've got nothing to live for.
'Cause darling that's one hell of a lie, right there.

I could be the best kind of therapy.
Speaking metaphorically,
Tell you vaguely what you need to do.
Just to get you thinking.

I won't be a shrink, just a best friend,
asking questions
like: "Who do you want to be?
Can't have all thirteen personalities.
One or more must contradict somewhere."

And I was proud to be your lover.
Because it felt good, felt right.

-Matt

Yeah. This thing is just kind of a random rambling thing that came out.

"Yours Is the Name I Love to Write"

Short and kind of silly poem I wrote in my journal:

"My heart burned,
As you curled up,
on your hands and knees.
Fighting back the tears.
God, how I wished,
to press my lips to yours.
Take your hand, hold it tight,
and tell you everything,
will be alright.
And now I consider,
if I should have.
What would you have done,
if I had?"

-Matt

In other news:

I'm working on a comic strip. The actual illustrations are probably going to be crappy, but the writing will more than make up for it, hopefully. I'm really excited to get it done.

I also finished writing a song last night. I'm not going to put up the lyrics until it's recorded and the rest of the instruments have been added. I'm super stoked on it, and I can't wait to hear it when it's done. I've got all these awesome things I want to do with it. But I'm going to keep everyone in suspense about it (except for those who help me work on it, or witness the actual recording/finishing process) because I'm cruel like that. It will also sound a lot better when you don't know what to expect. :]

And that's all for now.

"Our Time" and Some Lyrics I Really Like.

Don’t let your love die.
Let it burn, let is spark inside.
Perhaps, our time is then,
Not now, and maybe when it comes,
Can we let love surge again?
Will there be another chance?
I can’t go on, believing,
The little slips of paper,
In the fortune cookies that I get with,
My General Tsao’s and Wonton Soup.
“Today is the day you,
Let it go. Your chance will come.”
So you’re telling me,
If I set you free, then,
Will that day come when,
I can lay in your grace?
My heart wants to say “Yes.”
I watch the brown and yellow leaves,
Strewn across the road, dancing,
In the wake of the trucks and cars.
And there’s a cold and hollow emptiness,
Somewhere inside my chest,
And a ringing silence where,
Your voice once sung, so long ago.
My ears can’t take it anymore,
My head splits apart, trying,
Not to hear those words again:
“I love you, Matt. I always have, I always will.”
Maybe they’re words that work like duct tape.
So it doesn’t sting so bad when,
I try to reassemble myself again.
Hoping blindly that one day,
Our time may come again.

-Matt

John Samson is also an incredible songwriter.

"Left & Leaving" by The Weakerthans lyrics:

My city's still breathing (but barely it's true)
through buildings gone missing like teeth.
The sidewalks are watching me think about you,
sparkled with broken glass.
I'm back with scars to show.
Back with the streets I know
Will never take me anywhere but here.
The stain in the carpet, this drink in my hand,
the strangers whose faces I know.
We meet here for our dress-rehearsal to say " I wanted it this way"
Wait for the year to drown.
Spring forward, fall back down.
I'm trying not to wonder where you are.
All this time lingers, undefined.
Someone choose who's left and who's leaving.
Memory will rust and erode into lists of all that you gave me:
a blanket, some matches, this pain in my chest,
the best parts of Lonely, duct-tape and soldered wires,
new words for old desires,
and every birthday card I threw away.
I wait in 4/4 time.
Count yellow highway lines that you're relying on to lead you home.

"...And He Started Singing:"

So is this the change you think you felt?
And I have to ask, do you like it?
You put your past loves up on a shelf.
So you can try to forget.
All the hearts that you have broken.
But this time love, I'm sorry,
I won't let you leave so easily.

I gave you love like you've never known.
Like you've always wanted.
But when the time came to take me home,
You said, "I'm so sorry dear,
I just don't know if I can handle this,
so please don't stay here,"
But I don't want to go.
Don't make me go.

I thought that I could give you,
a simple life, like that of an artist.
Live by a lake, or a pasture full of horses.
Or maybe a coastal home, by the ocean.
We could have it all in arm's reach.
Just collapse into me. Darling, please.
I know you're tired.

-Something I started singing on the way home. I liked it. So I wrote it down. It's a shame really. It's too late for it to really have any power. All that is contained in this song is gone now. There's nothing left but severed threads swaying listlessly in the breeze. Struggling in vain to reconnect to what has completely released itself from them. The reasons for the strain and inevitable snapping of the threads are completely lost in translation. The rope will say: "It was too heavy," while the weight says: "The rope was not strong enough."

Words like the ones contained in this song are useless now. They are not strong enough to reconnect that which has been broken.

I should be a fucking philosopher.

-Matt

"Gravity, a Constant"

I've been dreaming of,
Floating out in space.
Just an object in the vacuum.
Great blackness swallow me up.

I could embrace the day,
when gravity gives up.
And my feet leave the ground.
I'm tired of all the fighting.

I can't keep this up.
Can't keep running at this pace.
Trying to save the tattered pieces.
Sew them back together.

With all the words I,
Never knew, and never could use.
I'm saying all that I can.
But my lungs won't let me breathe.

It doesn't matter what I say,
I could read the dictionary aloud,
And we wouldn't change a bit.
It's too late to try again.

And now I'm repeating,
like a broken record, stuck,
on a single phrase,
that hidden meaning, oh so clear.

All we had is lost,
And you don't want to look,
For even the smallest bit,
of the time we spent together.

Did my rocket ship,
fly too close to the sun?
Caught fire, exploded, mid-mission.
Leave me stranded in orbit?

Gravity can't bring me down,
I could fall like a shooting star
Streak of fire in your sky.
But you won't wish for it.

-My dreams haven't been about space actually. But the rest closer to the truth.

"Late Nights and Matinees"

I really want to tell you to, fuck off sometimes,
for all those times you didn't listen,
but that wouldn't get me anywhere, now would it?

I'm so tired of all the yelling,
and all the screaming I'm not doing.
All this rediculousness is making me sick.

Do you remember,
quiet nights with tired smiles,
tiny whispers in the lamplight?

Now the moon is bright and silver,
all the buildings throwing shadows on the street,
It's cold tonight and this jacket just won't cut it.

As I crossed the street, looking both ways,
I'm wondering what you've been thinking,
Pondering the thoughts that might have crossed your mind.

If you were so eager, to escape in the first place,
then maybe I'm a fool to talk it out with you.
Yeah, say you'll hear me out, you'll only hear "Commitment..."

The crowd gasps, "Oh no! Anything but that!"
And the people flee in flocks from the theatre.
You backed out the doors when you didn't want it anymore.

I really want to tell you, to open your eyes sometimes.
Realize there's more to life than living in fear.
You've got to have something to believe in, I hoped it was me.

-Yeah.

"Snow"+"Basement Rock"

I think about you,
when the snowflakes fall,
large and wet,
collecting on the plum tree's branches,
outside my window.

Melting on my tongue,
this snowflake tastes like you.
Sweet.

And the blanket, Mother Nature made,
out of white,
wraps me up, so soft and warm.
I miss your body heat.
I wasn't afraid of being cold.

-Matt

Ironically, I'm in a really pissy mood today, yet I wrote this poem.

Edit- A song I wrote:

"Basement Rock"

I hate the weather,
Skies always gray,
We ran out of alcohol,
An hour or two ago.
I never liked the taste.

We’re bored as hell,
Trying to drive,
Towards the horizon,
Just to get away.
To leave this place.

It’s no good trying,
To wind the hours down,
Until the sun next comes around,
In basements across town.
Singing with the sound.

Of basement rock.

I wonder if it'd be,
Any better in the city.
With all the light,
Sounds and people,
Living like machines.

Another sip of coffee,
Crack the window,
Let the fresh air in.
This is one way to live:
As if we were dead.

It’s no good trying,
To wind the hours down,
Until the sun next comes around,
In basements across town.
Singing with the sound.

Of basement rock.

Ramblings.

Autumn seems so melancholy. Everything is withering away, the skies are almost always gray, it's raining and cold, or just cold. I never used to see it like that. I loved the fall. The miasma of colours, piles of leaves to jump into and it isn't too hot or too extremely cold. But this fall, I am rather pensive and moody. That goes without saying, due to recent events. But more so, I have been reflective, particularly this weekend. I've been thinking a lot about last fall, and remembering all the things I have been through. I remember movie nights, snuggled comfortably inside a sleeping bag with her, looking through old photographs and home videos. I remember a night out in a boat, under the stars and the words, "I never want this to end," drifting to my ears. I remember dancing, a chilly night out in a soccer field with the constellations burning brightly above us. I remember lazy mornings when I'd wake upon her couch, wrapped in a thick comforter. I remember how innocent our time spent together was. Most of all, I remember being exactly where I wanted to be. I miss it all. Then I get to thinking, "Is this where she really wants to be? Did she ever feel like she was exactly where she wanted?" I cannot say.
I've just been burning myself out thinking about this. There's nothing I can do. If she doesn't want to listen to me and turn her cheek to the truth, then it's her loss. I can give her one last chance if she really wants to take it, but she doesn't. So what's the use of fighting for something that is utterly unattainable? This is not where I want to be. We do not need to be here. I just wish she felt the same way. I don't think it would do any good to try and work it out with her anyways. She won't listen. She doesn't want to hear what I have to say. She doesn't want to try and make it work. And then, after all she's done to me recently, does she really deserve to be my friend?

I guess it's only appropriate to feel bummed in such a dismal season.

-Matt

Woosh.

The Gogol Bordello concert was freaking off the wall. The band that opened for them was this weird, post-rock meets reggae, meets thrash/experimental metal. The crowd went absolutely fucknuts when Gogol Bordello played. Everyone was pushing, shoving, jumping, yelling, there were mosh pits, and it was great. All except for a couple people lighting up in the middle of the crowd (one dude was like, three feet away from Ryan and I). The crowd got so into it. It was awesome. Definitely one of, if not the best, concert I have ever been to.

Yay.

<3
Matt

"Cigarette"

You're your own worst enemy,
yeah, you know this so well,
as you choke down the smoke,
that slithers down your throat.
The chemicals, they ebb and flow,
they're killing you, oh so slow.
Tossing the butt to the ground,
you give no thought to the sound,
of the water, where you'll drown.
It's rushing up to greet you,
so tell me love, sink or swim?
This cigarette, it speaks,
it says: "Smoke me, and feel free,
But you'll soon succumb to me.
I'll put you in the ground,
If you don't put me down."
So am I a cigarette?
The more you breathe of me,
you choke, cough and wheeze?
You spit up the blood and phlegm,
from that black, smoker's lung.
All I tried to be was,
The cure for your cancer.

-Just playing around with rhyme, rhythm, and metaphor.

"Don't Leave the Pages Blank"

Take my arm,
and I'll help you stand.
It'd be a whole other story,
already partially written,
just waiting for you,
if you would take my hand.

I could take you,
so far from here.
Am I not all you want?
Then what do you desire?
I could help you fly,
just look me in the eyes.

Tell me, love,
that it isn't better,
when you've got arms,
to wrap you up,
hold you when you're cold,
and lift you if you fall.

-I don't really like this one. I needed to get that out, but it felt more forced than anything else. Bleh. Fuck.

OH MY GOD! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Kitty and I finally got some studio time. We wrote a song.

You can find it here. It's called "Honey Lip Balm."

I also got to record an acoustic song I wrote. ^.^ I'm going to put lyrics to it as soon as I've found something that works.

<3 All,
Matt

"You Don't Have to Go/Song of Hurt"

Quiet your tired voice, love,
just drop the angry words,
sing your songs of hurt,
this all just a mistake,
you made up more than you could take,
now you're searching for a way,
frantically seeking an escape.
But I know why you feel so guilty,
part of you still loves me,
I can feel it, breathing,
it's exhaling so weakly,
I dare you to kiss me,
and feel it in your knees.
You heart is shouting so quietly,
"Please, Sarah, this is so silly,
All you got to do is believe,
You know what he can be,
he might be everything you need.
How come you're scared to see?"
You're wrestling your feelings,
"He said words that hurt me.
He doesn't understand these things!
He was never listening!"
"He held you when you cried,
Give him credit, at least he tried.
It's not his fault he was handed an easy life.
Do you really think he hurt you?
Do you really think he's cruel?
And it isn't like he never apologized."
What's keeping you from seeing truth?
Do you regret the things you do?
You don't have to go.
Just so you know.

-I'm not sure if these would fit to the song I've already written. I can give it a shot, but I don't think so.

I'm also on my way to knowing "Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls on guitar, and "The Luckiest" by Ben Folds on piano. I started figuring the latter out by ear, but concluded I needed the sheet music. So I got it. I'm super freaking excited.

"Misinterpret Until You Ruin It"

I've been made the villain,
of your misinterpretation.
So now you run away,
from something I didn't say.
(I didn't mean it like that.)

I wrote a song to apologize,
Too bad you won't hear it.
The notes will hit your ear,
the lyrics and such, you'll hear.
(You won't hear my heart beating.)

Rest your head upon my chest,
Like the Sunday mornings filled with anime.
And then we'd kiss, basking in the rays.
Of spring sunlight in the window.

Not again, however.
You lost your nerve, lost your temper.
Yeah I fucked up,
But this time round, I don't think,
The second chances, are yours to give.

-Eh. Not my best.

Cursive owns your face (And your children.):

"Some Red Handed Sleight of Hand" lyrics:

And now we proudly present,
songs perverse and songs of lament,
a couple hymns of confession,
songs that recognize our sick obsessions.
Sing along-I'm on the ugly organ.
Sing along-I'm on the ugly organ. So let's begin.
It's no use to keep a secret,
'cause everything I hide ends up in the lyrics,
So read on-then accuse me when you're done,
If it sounds like I did you wrong.

Our father, who art in heaven,
save me from the wreck I'm about to drown in,
didn't I learn anything,
counting all my sins on rosary beads?
The reverend plays on the ugly organ,
he spews out his sweet and salty sermon,
on the audience.

So why do I think I'm any different?

I've been making money off my indifference
We all pass the hat around,
this is my body, this is blood I found,
On my hands, after I wrote this album.
Play it off as a stigmata for crossover fans,
Some red-handed sleight of hand.

-Hell yeah.

"Forever In A Song"

Now I'm caught on stage,
Singing songs to stay alive,
pouring out my heart,
Into this microphone.

My voice is gone,
Breath just a breeze,
and with every line,
it gets a little harder to breathe.

And just when I think
I'm gonna pass out,
the song comes to an end,
and my guitar's the only sound.

There used to be, a thousand ways,
to take your breath away,
and I knew each and every one.
I thought I could live forever, inside a song.

You always thought that I,
Would say things just to hurt you,
Maybe I should just sing instead of speak,
You don't want to hear what I have to say.

I could right a million words,
but I'm still just a wayward troubadour,
clumsily stumbling on, writing songs,
No one will ever hear.

Without an audience, my dear,
I'm just a sad, sappy, love poet,
haphazard, spewing some stanzas,
maybe just love, and some verses.

There used to be a thousand ways,
to take your breath away,
and I knew each and every one.
I thought I could live forever, in a song.

To think that I believed,
It'd just be you and me,
On lonely nights by the sea,
Where you would listen to me sing.

But you just turn and leave.
Unwilling to give a second chance & see,
If it was all just misunderstanding.
You're screaming "How could you do this to me?"

Maybe you could have said to me,
"Wait, what is it that you mean?"
"Why would you say that to me?"
And this is where we shouldn't be.

There used to be a thousand ways,
to take your breath away,
and I knew each and every one.
I thought I could live forever, in a song.

You know, You'll live forever,
Inside my songs.
My voice will live on.
Singing life into your legacy.
Far after you and I are gone.

-A song I wrote. I'm going to add music to it. As soon as I can.