Cars and Telephones

I read the pages about me
In her autobiography
They were brief and to the point
A flash, while you are getting dressed
A memory that needs to be repressed
I'll just wait until it's over

Since you've gone away
I never know just what to say
Since you've gone away
I never know just what to say

Cause I like cars more than telephones
Your voice in my ear makes me feel so alone
Tonight I'm gonna drive
The silver moon is shining bright
Over the interstate
God saying hurry don't be late
Soon the sun will rise
That's when the romance dies
And I'm just tired of running around

I walked
To get the mail today
I guess
Your letter never came
I'll just
Check again tomorrow

A flash, while you are getting dressed
A Memory that needs to be repressed
I'll just wait without saying a word

Since you've gone away
I never know just what to say
Since you've gone away
I never know just what to say

Cause I like cars more than telephones
Your voice in my head makes me feel so alone
Tonight I'm gonna drive
The silver moon is shining bright
Over the interstate
God saying hurry don't be late
Soon the sun will rise
That's when the romance dies
And I'm just tired of running around

But fuck it, I love you even if
I'm gonna feel like shit
By the time I get to you
Now the sky is turning blue
The stars they disappear
One by one as the daylights nears
And yes you're in my head
But that doesn't make you here
And I've lost all my friends
But you're the one I miss the most
And now I'm almost there
Yeah I'm almost to the coast
And if I had any notion
Of how I'm gonna drive my car across
the Atlantic Ocean,
I'd be fucking set.

"Cars and Telephones" by The Arcade Fire

I Took The Lights and Radio Towers Out Of My Dreams

"The moon , the moon, the blue light of the moon. We didn't talk and silently we both felt powerful, and like the moon my chest was full."

"The Moon" by The Microphones

Miranda July is a little freaking sweetheart.

"I'd like to think all the people who follow my work are radical, political firecrackers. But those of you who are don't need any encouragement from me. Instead I will focus my efforts on the demographic who, like me in 1996, feels completely disconnected from life, nevermind their country. I'm hoping that there aren't very many of you, in this day and age. You people are hard to encourage, because all the political arguments will mean nothing to you. I just spent the last hour typing up my case for Obama, but you won't even read it, you'll skip ahead to something that seems subtler or less cliche, I know you. (And those of you who will read it, who are perhaps torn between Obama and Clinton, are well tended to by better writers.) So nevermind all that.

Here's why you should vote: you are going to really love it, the whole strange procedure. You get to walk right into a building that you would never normally be allowed in, often an elementary school. You can pause in the hallway to look at all the weird school-art and feel the eerie vibe of hundreds of kids living their endless kid lives right nearby. Then you follow the arrows to the voting room and look at the faces of the volunteers - who are these people? There is a hush of secrecy, the voting booth is clunky, the whole thing seems fake somehow. You consider filling in all the bubbles, like you did on the SATs. But you don't. You vote. You walk back outside feeling like you just gave blood or something, lightheaded from citizenry. You are wearing a sticker that says "I Voted" and you wish you could continue to get stickers like this throughout the day: I Ate Dinner, I Went To Sleep, I Got Out Of Bed, I Went To Work.
But alas, it is just this one thing that we all do together, savor it.

I tried to find an easy link for you to locate your polling place, but the best thing to do is just type the name of your city + "where do I vote" into google. If you're not registered, then you might not be able to vote in the primaries, but register right now so you can vote in November."

-Miranda July

Our Anniversary

This is Our Anniversary and you've hidden my keys.....

by (Smog)

For The Widows In Paradise, For The Fatherless In Ypsilanti