In case you don't believe me about the lead singer from Wilco . . . (see below journal)

Hummingbird


His goal in life was to be an echo
Riding alone, town after town, toll after toll
A fixed bayonet through the great southwest to forget her

She appears in his dreams
But in his car and in his arms
A dream can mean anything
A cheap sunset on a television set can upset her
But he never could

Remember to remember me
Standing still in your past
Floating fast like a hummingbird

His goal in life was to be an echo
The type of sound that floats around and then back down
Like a feather
But in the deep chrome canyons of the loudest Manhattans
No one could hear him
Or anything

So he slept on a mountain
In a sleeping bag underneath the stars
He would lie awake and count them
And the gray fountain spray of the great Milky Way
Would never let him
Die alone

Remember to remember me
Standing still in your past
Floating fast like a hummingbird

Remember to remember me
Standing still in your past
Floating fast like a hummingbird

A hummingbird
A hummingbird

found on: A Ghost is Born

words: Jeff Tweedy

debuted: January 6, 2003, The Vic, Chicago (Tweedy)

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or . . .

Theologians


Theologians
They don't know nothing
About my soul
About my soul

I'm an ocean
An abyss in motion
Slow motion
Slow motion

Inlitterati lumen fidei
God is with us everyday
That illiterate light
Is with us every night

Theologians
That don't know nothing
About my soul
Oh they don't know

They thin my heart with little things
And my life with change
Oh in so many ways
I find more missing every day

Theologians

I'm going away
Where you will look for me
Where I'm going you cannot come

No one's ever gonna take my life from me
I lay it down
A ghost is born
A ghost is born
A ghost is born

I'm an ocean
I'm all emotion
I'm a cherry ghost
Cherry ghost

Hey I'm a cherry ghost
A cherry ghost

found on: A Ghost is Born

words: Jeff Tweedy

debuted: April 16, 2003, Abbey Pub, Chicago (Wilco/Minus 5)

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typetypetypetypetypetype

This past weekend I got to see the sun go down as Jeff Tweedy sang his suicidal little heart out. Bless his soul for not being able to cope with life. I love people like that.

I got a gig renovating the tralf, so be sure to go when it opens by the way. My arms feel like they will explode again. This time it's from sawing and having a crush on a non-suspecting painter.

So yeah, this weekend. Newport Folk festival folks. One of the best things on God's brownfield earth. And can we start a petition to get rid of this fucking helmet law in NY state? Jesus.

I rode around all morning Saturday feeling like I was crossing the prairy desperately trying to reach El Paso, before the bad guys kill my sweet heart.

It was that kind of moment.

And why aren't hippy lesbians/experimental college girls attractive anymore? What gives? I won't say anything about the guys because if I see one more gut without a shirt I'm gonna puke.

Lucinda WIlliams was hot as ever.
As were the girls from Ollabelle.

Rufus Wainwright played and I don't know if any of you know him, but he is quite possibly the funniest entertainer I have seen. People were bell laughing.

The bike is red, I repeat, the bike is red. It's not bad. I put it on with the idea that I'll eventually paint it, but fuck it. It's meant to be.

I need a new tat but don't know where to put it besides up my ass.

I'm contemplating modeling for UB's art dept. Any ideas why I should not make the 15 an hour standing still, please let me know. I am horribly unattractive and disfigured so it will make for some nice drawings.

Robin, those pictures belong in a mini-series about the city boy who decides to raise chickens. Very cool.

There was a guy I once knew. He always started every story with those words. Can I go now. I thought you were going to tell a . . . well yeah, that's what I mean.

Fine. Go on.

After what seemed like three months of pure irrationality, he finally decided to let go and see what would happen.

But then, do you decide to let go? Not at all. It happens. Sort of like that last mushroom disappearing making your salad as plain as you are. I hear you. Please continue.

He let go. That's it. Why, no one really knows, except of course me. Of course. But you can figure it out.

He walked down the street as cars beeped feebly. He must have known that they wouldn't hit him, not that he cared. He came across one guy beating another. One was smaller and so he decided to assist.

What if the little guy deserved it?

The little guy never deserves it, shut up. So he took the big one down having God on his side.

We all have God on our side.

Shut the fuck up. So you know what happened? Why so silent good monsieur? He helped him out. The big guy lay still, half dead. The cops came, but he was gone already. A modern day Batman he was. But then.

Then?

Then.

Then?

Then he met up with a beggar who needed change. He screamed at him, said to leave him alone. ALONE he said. And he walked away.

So.

As he walked away he felt a warmth in his body and fell to his knees. The man had stabbed him.

The moral?

What's the moral? There's no fucking moral. I knew a guy who was stabbed. He got out easy s'what I say. We still have to endure. God chose him, or Buddha, or Zeus. Someone chose him.

Maybe he chose.

Can you please walk that a way? Yep that's it . . . thanks . . .

Be honest with me

- you sure

oh yes, please go on.

- you're one in a million

Oh god, you're sweet

-no, I mean, there has to be at least a million more out there exactly like you. And I mean exactly.

Uh . . .

-What's wrong?

Let's curb the honesty

- want to know what I was thinking while you climaxed?

please, no I . . .

- I was-

(SLAP, followed by grossly exagerated crying)

sorry, I was just being honest

The hottest places in hell are reserved for those, who at the time of great moral crisis, remain neutral.