unrescuable schizo

hes a lonely planet
dont stir and wake
everythings ok
give or take
the cats got the canary spinning in its ribcage
did i mention i came dressed for the intervention
(and if you were dying soon would you try to find snow in the deep summer
the june bugs dancing in wonder
and i still wonder now
if my words will stil turn you inside out)
hes a honeyjar
with that pretty face, lets never lose the lid
and keep those rosey lips in
(he breathes wet through insect eyes)
in multiples of four, no less than sixteen
mr. sandmans been showing his beam
when he walks into a room the walls lean in to listen
keep a calendar this way youll know the last time you came through
oh.
"i know what youre going through"
well i dont- its more of a "paper or plastic" grocery store choice to me
but ill sympathize with anything to get through to you
do you know what its like to watch reruns of yourself night after night
to offer nothing and expect everything in return
to cock your head just right to appear arrogantly humble
if we hurry well make the morning edition
cos everybody likes to read the bad news
theyve tapped the phone be very careful what you say
speak in code about singing birds and sleepy eyed women
autographs only taught me how to conterfeit signatures on my prescriptions
his heads a junkyard for rusted midnight thoughts
hes criminally carefree
when the pills swallow the worry
hes digging like forty nine
hes making you press rewind
hes a thunderstorm so bright you shut your eyes
he is a hurricane

[Poll #1342002]

I'm trying to get at something here. I'm a Twilight lolfan and I love RPattz cause of how hilarious he is about how much he fucking hates Twilight - but I've found that every legitimate Twilight fan also legitimately loves him, and I find this a total contradiction.

If this was something I loved, Edward was a character I loved, and believed in, and Rob said stuff like the quotes below, I would hate him for it, yet no one does.

"When you read the book," says Pattinson, looking appropriately pallid and interesting even without makeup, "it's like, 'Edward Cullen was so beautiful I creamed myself.' I mean, every line is like that. He's the most ridiculous person who's so amazing at everything. I think a lot of actors tried to play that aspect. I just couldn't do that. And the more I read the script, the more I hated this guy, so that's how I played him, as a manic-depressive who hates himself. Plus, he's a 108-year-old virgin so he's obviously got some issues there."

"When I read it, it seemed like *grimaces* I was convinced that ... Stephenie was ... convinced that she was Bella, and uh, and you, it wasn't, it was like it was a book that wasn't supposed to be published, like reading her ... her sort of sexual fantasy about some -- especially when she says that it was based on a dream, and it's like, "Oh, then I had a dream about this really sexy guy" and she just writes this book about it, and there's some things about Edward that are just so specific that it's like, I was just convinced that, that this woman is mad, she's completely mad, and she's in love with her own fictional creation and I -- sometimes you, like, feel uncomfortable reading this thing, and I think a lot of people feel the same way, that it's kind of voyeuristic, ah, and it creates this sick pleasure in a lot of ways."

"I guess their relationship is about projection. That’s what I found interesting about the story. Bella just projects whatever fantasy she wants onto Edward and he’s just a canvas for whatever she wants him to be. No matter what he says or does, it doesn’t matter to her. I guess in that way it’s kind of a fraudulent relationship."


He hates Edward, he hates the books, he hates Smeyer. Yet legit fans, who love Edward, love the books, and love Smeyer, still love him. This is hypocritical, I think. Can anyone explain this to me? Have they just not read these articles or something?


In related news, I want this:

pretty new myspace default. i've also added a pic of me and Fall Out Boy from the London show. it's possibly the stupidest meet and greet picture ever. check it out and laugh.

reading prozac nation at the moment. upsetting for a multitude of reasons.

I think to myself: I have finally gotten so impossible and unpleasant that they will really have to do something to make me better. And then I realize, they think they are doing all they can and it's not working. They have no idea what a bottomless pit of misery I am. They will have to do more and more and more. They think the psychiatrist ought to be enough, they think making the kind of cursory efforts any parents make when their kid is slipping away will be enough, but they don't know how enormous my need is. They don't know how much I will demand of them before I even think about getting better. They do not know that this is not some practice fire drill meant to prepare them for the real inferno, because the real thing is happening right now. All the bells say: too late. It's much too late and I'm so sure that they are still not listening. They still don't know that they need to do more and more and more, they need to try to get through to me until they haven't slept or eaten or breathed fresh air for days, they need to try until they've died for me. They will have to suffer as I have. And even after they've done that, there will still be more. They will have to rearrange the order of the cosmos, they will have to end the cold war, they will have to act like loving, kind adults who care about each other, they will have to cure hunger in Ethiopia and end the sex-slave trade in Thailand and stop torture in Argentina. They will have to do more than they ever thought they could if they want me to stay alive. They have no idea how much energy and exasperation I am willing to suck out of them until I feel better. I will drain them and drown them until they know how little of me there is left even after I've taken everything they've got to give me because I hate them for not knowing.

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'man is least himself when he speaks in his own person. give him a mask, and he'll tell you the truth.'

true on so many levels. without my face attached, i can say and do and be so many things that otherwise, i'd be too embarrassed, too ashamed, too attached to do. on the most basic level.. dancing. on the deepest... well..... well.