Kick Drum Heart


No longer does it matter what circumstances

Brendan got me the Avett Brothers’ CD for Christmas. The one I’ve been longing for since it came out on September 29th.

I’m listening to it now in Mrs. Propp’s room, and I probably won’t stop listening to it until I know every beat, word, and tune to every song. This is my December and January music. A little melancholy and a little rockin’, a little vivid and a little sad. These boys really know how to sing to my heart, even if they don’t know me.

I know I’ve been really stressed and working (all the time) as of late. I remember when a melodic line of Avett would send that stress flying back where it came from.

I’m sitting here tense and headachy and sore and listening to the Avett Brothers. My heart’s still crying because I miss summer (still), but I understand now that it’s gone. And it will be back soon enough, and bring a new fresh vital wave of change. I should be enjoying the time here, the time now. Shouldn’t I?

I hope the Avetts will help me change. Help me to accept that it’s never going to be June, July, August 2009, ever again. Those are days I can’t get back, and I don’t want these to be bland and fraught with sadness: I can’t get back this December, either.

It’s so hard to live.



One of these days:
8 December 2009, 10:36 pm
Filed under: Poetry, Random Thoughts | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

One of these days,
I’ll act on impulse.
One of these days,
I’ll say what I think
The most honest version possible
They wouldn’t know it was possible
And either no one will care
Or, they’ll hate me.

One of these days,
I’ll glide along on impulse.
One of these days,
I’ll walk up and kiss him
He wouldn’t be expecting it
No one would be expecting it
And he’d like it
Or, he’ll hate me.

One of these days,
I’ll walk alone with impulse.
One of these days,
I’ll cry, it doesn’t matter
The full room of people, staring
Guess if I was them I’d be staring
And I’d be better
Or I’d hate me.

One of these days,
I’ll write away with impulse.
One of these days,
I’ll test out some poetry
And if it’s pointless then, it’s pointless
I’m not surprised if it is pointless
But if not, then
Here’s to impulse.



And still singing

It’s been a long day, even though I don’t know why, really. I beat Guitar Hero Aerosmith on Hard, so I felt accomplished.

The broken whammy bar started working after what might be considered one of the most magnificent hours of my life.

Today, I received a packet of papers in the mail. Within those papers, I was informed that I’ve been accepted into the Conference All-State Women’s Choir.

Soprano One, son.

I texted Emma.

Emma and Kiener called me. Emma told me she was calling Lerew.

I called Mrs. Ripley. Mrs. Ripley was ecstatic. Mrs. Ripley says she’s going to tell everyone she knows.

I texted Heather. By then it was eight at night and I was on the way to Franklinville for my sister’s football game (she cheerleads) and I didn’t want to hold conversation across spotty service areas in a moving vehicle. Hopefully she’ll call me back when it’s good for her, and if I don’t hear from her by tomorrow afternoon, I’m calling for sure. I’m so excited.

Nothing could put a damper on that news, except I’m tired. I’m just downright exhausted, so my enthusiasm is going to be shelved until tomorrow. I’ll siphon it back into my system then and do something really productive. Earlier today I decorated and established my JCC and creative writing binders, and got the rest of my materials ready and in my bag for school. As of tonight, there are only five more full days before my last first day of high school.

I just want to live it. I feel like I say this every time I blog, but dammit, I want to feel and exist in every single moment I’m blessed with. I want to feel alive, I want to experience everything good this world has to offer. And some of the bad, because otherwise there’s nothing to measure the great against.

If today was any indication of where hard work and practice and dedication and passion can get me, though, I don’t think I’ll have too difficult a time living each minute of my senior year. I worked my ass off for that one hundred on the audition paper. Puccini might have been proud of me, even.

So. Conference All State, here I come. And everything else. Watch out. I have a craving, a burning thirst for life. I plan to quench it.