I want all that stupid old shit like letters and sodas
what i am now considering my favorite moment of the weekend, is at most an insignificant event that will become just another meaningless story in my written journal. sometime after 3am last night, when everyone in my room was basically passed out, liz phair's "exile in guyville" came on for the second time on the 5 disc changer. it's one of those albums i listened to obsessively in high school and then sort of forgot about, letting it slowly sink to the bottom of my spinning rack of cds, in the section of things i never listen to anymore. it's a damn good album that i think everyone should rediscover every once in a while, kind of like hole's "live though this" , the breeders "last splash", or anything by Nirvana. it always reminds me of late middle school, early high school times in my life. anyway, to add to jaime's coolness, i learned that exile in guyville was something resembling the soundtrack to her in high school. on the verge of passing out, we had a drunken sing along to that album, everything from 6'1" all the way to "strange loop". the songs began to take on meaning i never noticed before. i guess everything means something if you think about it long enough. i read into lyrics too much, i guess that's why i write songs, and then decide they mean something entirely different a few months later. exile in guyville will now function as high school angst along with college lust.
"I woke up alarmed, I didn't know where I was at first. Just that I woke up in your arms, And almost immediately I felt sorry."