(Suspected of anonymity)
I am out of the habit of writing. Three days in LA has ruined me, as I strongly suspected it would. That city has destroyed many, some quicker than I. I wanted to write each day when I was there but with no computer it was nearly impossible. Well, not impossible, far from impossible. But I brought no pen and notepad, no pencil. I brought no will to write.
I meant to write here of Selavy's visit to SF (pictured above to preserve his long fought for and sacred anonymity) but the week got away from me and now I am floundering, waiting to leave again. Who knows if I will be able to write from Costa Rica or not. I will bring a few cameras with me and hopefully return with some fine, nice photos. What a different person I am now from the one that I once was. Barely recognizable, yet eager to pretend. Pretending's fun as they say.
I used the pronoun "I" 13 times above to get here. Unlucky, I guess.
The ones you love to hurt, always the ones you love.
Ashamed of everything you should have been thankful of.
Folks covered up with roses, might envy everyone
But you're just dressing up to go messing up
See you run around everyone in town
The one your thinking of's gone
Not coming back, but pretending's fun
You watch the days go by, dreading them one by one
You love your sleep so much, something that rarely comes.
Folks covered up with roses, might envy everyone
But you're just dressing up to go messing up
See you run around everyone in town
The one you're thinking of's gone
Not coming back, but pretending's . . .
Easy to do, I should know -- I've locked away the tears
I want to show, to you, but I don't know. I don't know
When I see you dressing up to go messing up
See you run around everyone in town
The one I'm thinking of's gone
Not coming home, but pretending's fun.
Ashamed of everything you should have been thankful of.
Folks covered up with roses, might envy everyone
But you're just dressing up to go messing up
See you run around everyone in town
The one your thinking of's gone
Not coming back, but pretending's fun
You watch the days go by, dreading them one by one
You love your sleep so much, something that rarely comes.
Folks covered up with roses, might envy everyone
But you're just dressing up to go messing up
See you run around everyone in town
The one you're thinking of's gone
Not coming back, but pretending's . . .
Easy to do, I should know -- I've locked away the tears
I want to show, to you, but I don't know. I don't know
When I see you dressing up to go messing up
See you run around everyone in town
The one I'm thinking of's gone
Not coming home, but pretending's fun.
-Ryan Adams
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