i want to see you dance again.

Come a little bit closer
Hear what I have to say
Just like children sleepin
We could dream this night away

But theres a full moon risin
Lets go dancin in the light
We know where the musics playin
Lets go out and feel the night

Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon

When we were strangers
I watched you from afar
When we were lovers
I loved you with all my heart

But now its gettin late
And the moon is climbin high
I want to celebrate
See it shinin in your eye

Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon...

-neil young






i wish you knew how much it takes out of me to love you the way i do.
and i wish i knew how to make it stop.
i want you to be better. maybe not better. you were perfect the way you were.
in any case, i'm angry that you called last night, and i hope the new you is ok.

i'm sure i'll be hearing from you again soon.

to portland.

this isn't about you, you fucking idiot.
even though you still haven't returned my house key. and i still have your ac/dc t-shirt.
you can keep the key.
i moved out of that apartment, anyway. right after the last time you slept in it.
i thought about burning it down to the ground, but it was attached to other apartments.

this isn't about you, you fucking idiot.
even though the last time you told me goodbye and looked in my eyes you also told me you'd never leave.
because this time you were going to try harder and be smarter and the drinking would slow and so would the blow and you'd definitely
quit fucking with that bartender that i can't stand.

but this isn't about you, you fucking idiot.
if it was, you'd owe me roughly $472.00 in parking tickets to the city of san diego and $40.00 to the city of coronado. and that doesn't count the numerous $20 nights i paid off for 3 years straight to park in that shitty lot behind your loft. i should charge you interest.

this isn't about you, you fucking idiot.
it's not about you, or all the times i made you mix-tapes while i slept with your band mates.
it's not about the fact that i spent half my rent money on your tour gifts, or the fact that i wore your shirts while i passed out in his bed.

this isn't about you, you fucking idiot.
i thought about following you up to portland, but i had a feeling you'd stop in l.a.
and you know how much i hate west hollywood.

this isn't about you, you fucking idiot.
if it was, i'd ask for my love letters back before you left town. and that card that i made you 4 years ago with our song lyrics on the envelope. you're a dick.
you still have my black wrap in your trash bags full of clothes somewhere. that was my favorite sweater.
when you stop driving that piece of shit getaway truck to take a break and check your busted ass iphone that the slutty bartender bought for you, check that pile of trash bags for my black wrap and my house key.
i hope you find your heart again in portland.

that's the only thing i miss about you now.
you fucking idiot.

reasons why megan will forever be my best friend, pt. 1

From: Megan Jackson
Sent: Thursday, April 02, 2009 9:10 AM
To: Wheeler, Misty
Subject: Creepy McCreeperson




Hello Misty,

I was just passing by outside your bedroom window this morning and I happened to see you. I didn’t want to wake you because you looked so peaceful, but I just wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked.

Love,
J*n Cons*d*ne

P.S. We’re having a funeral for my dog this weekend, I’d really like it if you could come.

these things are true.

"are you happy being just that?"

"i suppose not. but it's really all i've ever been now, isn't it?"

"not to me."

"yeah, well. you sure have a funny way of showing it."

"c'mon, babe. i love you. you know that."

"i love you too, darling. but it doesn't seem to be enough. can't you find some other girl to put up with you?"

"i can find a ton of girls to put up with me."

"but?"

"but i don't love them. not like i love you."

"i highly doubt they'd love you as much as i do, either."

"nobody will."

"so why is it, then, my love? always the other one; never the one?"

"that's not how it is, babe. we're gonna get married someday."

"i can only wait so long, love. sooner or later someone else is going to wise up and sweep me away from you."

"no one could ever do that, babe. i won't let them. it's always been me and you. always."

meet me in the city...

Meet me while I'm in the city
and see everything is so fine
We'll get together now darling
Oh yes we will
We'll make everything alright
Now honey don't
Oh honey don't
Please, please don't leave me right now baby
Right now, right now
Oh no no no
You got me baby
You got me darling
You got me where you want me baby
Girl I know you are
Satisfied
Still begging you baby
Don't leave me here
Please, please don't leave me
Right now baby, right now , right now
oh no no no

- the black keys

trash vs. treasure.

this isn't a relationship, baby.
it's a competition.
and no matter how much i love you -
i
just
can't
win.

ways to make me angry, pt.1

1. stop and stare into my office window every time you walk down the hall. not to be confused with a passing glance or short wave "hello" while you hurry by. no, this is more of a "stop and stare at me while i'm in the middle of very important things and wait for me to look up and acknowledge you" type of thing. see also: tapping on glass until i look up from my computer. this is not a zoo/pet shop and if it were there are usually signs restricting you from doing that type of thing so really its not ok no matter how you look at it.
2. silence in a bathroom stall. i already despise public restrooms, but please help to make my experience a little more enjoyable by avoiding that whole "sitting very still" thing. the door is locked, so yes, i believe i've already caught you in the act. no need to sit in complete silence while i do my thing and make me wonder if a.) you are actually a lurker waiting to catch me with my pants down in order to rape/kill/rob me or b.) you have died in the stall next door due to unforeseen circumstances. if i worry enough about b, i might have to force my way either under or over the stall wall and this would no doubt result in a very awkward situation for the both of us if it was done in vain. do not misunderstand me - i'm not asking for screams or conversations while you're dropping a deuce but an occasional cough or rustle of the toilet seat cover to let me know you're still kickin' would suffice. and don't be shy about doing your business. that's what bathrooms are for. i, in turn, will not feel like the jerk when my morning coffee kicks in. if you know what i'm sayin'.
3. comment on the amount of lists that i make. yes, i'm aware. it's my bag, ok? this is what i do. you can either dig it or get out of the kitchen.
4. talk to me while wearing a blue-tooth. actually, don't wear a blue-tooth, period. i understand driving laws and all of the here and there and what have you, but unless you are driving and one of your limbs has flown out of the window of your automobile, there is no reason for you to be making a phone call on your "headset".
5. leave 1/3 of a cup of coffee in the bottom of the pot right before a meeting. that's just rude. there are no two ways around it.
6. stand directly behind or in front of me on an escalator. i know people who feel my pain on this one. there are at least 200 steps on most of these bad boys, and let's be honest, unless you're a pick-pocket or you want to get into my pants, there's no reason for you to be so close. i don't want to feel you breathing if i don't know who you are.
7. last but not least - shove all hangers from the rack that we are both shopping from over to my end. don't do that. we can share the same space, and most certainly the same rack of clothing. people do it all the time. that's what shopping is about. and while i'm on this subject, do not let your children crawl in and out of said clothing racks. i don't want to sustain injuries from unexpected cardiac arrest while in nordstrom rack. i'm looking at sevens that i'll never fit into and boom! here's your 5-year-old's face peering at me through a rack full of jeans. your kid has just taken 10 years off of my life. do the math:
1 5 year-old + $118.00 7 jeans + 27 year old me - 10 years = not good.
it doesn't all add up to be worth it.