What's Easy (The Hurt You Did)

Heard you say hurt and hurt you did
Funny what you say you think but
Hurt and hurt you did

Call someone the lesser, feel bigger
On a platform raised to belittle and
Hurt and hurt you did

And so you’re the better to throw down stones
On what you think you see, but not know so
Hurt and hurt you did

So laugh and look down
Through guise of wit
Wipe your hands clean of the
Hurt and hurt you did

It’s easy isn’t it?

Thrusday Swtiches

Another Egg, A New Header

Playlist: Turn City

01. Canned Heat - Jamiroquai

02. Running - Computer Magic

03. Andy - Last Dinosaurs

04. Sad Nile - The Whitefield Brothers

05. Boyfriend - Best Coast

06. Rawnald Gregory Erickson the Second - Starfucker

07. Snoopy Waves - Deerhoof

08. Walking On A Dream - Empire Of The Sun

09. Slayer - Giant Drag

10. Sweet Disposition - The Temper Trap


Download the playlist here: Turn City

Click. Play. Enjoy.

With an Itch Where Your Scar Is

This past Monday night I got into a scuffle with a wall. I was eager and pressed forward. He (the wall) was adamant and generally was being a wall. I went face-first, he (yes he) laughed as I stood utterly shocked-still, STUNNED. There aren't a lot of moments in life where you're caught loopy, that first second not knowing "wha-huh?" then dizzily soon after the realization that something that wasn't supposed to happen just happened and you're a doofus for being there.

All the while the wall stands victor. Asshole. (Yes, him.)

The blow to right eye was just that, I thought. But something wet fell onto my left hand. It could not have been tears because I was too shocked to cry. Plus, whatever that wet was, there was definitely more than what a hefty squeeze of a bottle of Visine would spew. So I looked towards my hand and...

blood.

Yup. Way to go, genius. You and the wall? Who would fall? Of course, you. He's been there since 1950-whatever and you only popped out in the 80's. He supports a generous portion of the house and you can't even lift half your bloated whale weight. The blood poured and I can't remember the last time blood poured out of me, if ever.  Went to the bathroom, washed up at the sink. The cut was deep, a flap of skin resembling a fish gill breathing red. Stitches? I hoped not. But this is the deepest cut I've ever received. Slapped a (possibly over-zealous) bandage around my head, looking every bit the part of person who just went one-on-one with something dangerously stationary. A second set of (more reasonable) bandages followed the next day, then the strips the day after. 

You know what? 
What?
Don't go rushing in the dark with a wall between you and where you want to be.
Why?
You just might end up scarred with proof of how stupid you can be.