"This is the foreign land
With the Spray-on Tan
...And it all feels 'fine'"
-The Shins
My wandering mind:
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The land of smokey grayness
Not from fog or magic or steam
A mute button over the colors of the earth
So you'd better look more pretty
more shiny
more something...
who are you today, pretty one?
what will you say and how will you smile tonight?
I dub thee "Botox Squeeky Red Nose BOBO"
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I can recall the names of wounds by exits off the freeways.
Drive on
Further
Move away
Further
The prickles of the 210
The crushing of the 110
The lost dream and lingering false hopes of the 134.
And then there's "home"
Off the Azusa blvd exit.
The only exit of peace.
And the only one I should drive on past.
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People are exhausted here.
There's no color, so you have to provide it.
There's no escaping traffic, so you sit in glazed eyed numbness
Or you pull off and wait, in your car, til you can go home and rest.
Put off rest another hour.
MOVE MOVE MOVE!!!
There's still some things I love about here.
I have crazy fun times.
But there's little place to land,
and no one can stay put in one place long enough to land with.
The mantra of this town is:
"What do you do? & How can I use you?"
I just want to make them all a cup of hot chocolate and tell them they are still beautiful.
I want to curl them up in a blanket by the licking flame fire and let them be at peace.
You are you. Let God fill in the colors.
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I saw a rainbow in the clouds on the trip up over a long stretch of nowhere.
A promising banner, that nowhere is still somewhere in the heart of it's Creator.
I am still somewhere.
He makes everything beautiful.