Wednesday, January 05, 2005
Hurting For Bedford
I'm at work right now and I have one of my favoritest songs in the
world stuck in my head. Its "Those Kneepads" by Bedford, off their
"Smiles Are the Batteries" album. I lose the CD. I had two copies but
gave one of them to Beth. Not the Beth who lives in the apartment
below me, but the one that was Peter's friend. She's probably in
Ireland. And she doesn't have my new phone number or my cell phone.
Damn.
Its such a good song. Its angry, but not angsty. It was the kind of
music I grew up with. They played a lot in my area, so I'd be one of
the kids jumping around like a maniac.
In Central PA, we moshed to Bedford.
I still know all the words, pratically.
But I'm going to end this the line that always sticks out for me:
"Her reply was cruel: Devotion is for fools / who wear their hearts
upon their sleeve. /
Don't you ever change? You stayed the fucking same / I can't believe
you waited for me. for me. for me."
I think its stuck in my head a lot because I was cleaning my apartment
and found a folder of all the poetry my friends and I wrote before I
left for college. We were just a bunch of damn emo kids posting
semi-bad and semi-good poetry on a bulletin board on the internet.
Everytime I find that folder, I go through it and the summer plays out
again for me in memory.
And I think of my big brother Peter.
And walking six miles home in the middle of the night with a wire
sticking through my mouth after screaming at him so hard that the
wires keeping my jaw wired shut had snapped.
world stuck in my head. Its "Those Kneepads" by Bedford, off their
"Smiles Are the Batteries" album. I lose the CD. I had two copies but
gave one of them to Beth. Not the Beth who lives in the apartment
below me, but the one that was Peter's friend. She's probably in
Ireland. And she doesn't have my new phone number or my cell phone.
Damn.
Its such a good song. Its angry, but not angsty. It was the kind of
music I grew up with. They played a lot in my area, so I'd be one of
the kids jumping around like a maniac.
In Central PA, we moshed to Bedford.
I still know all the words, pratically.
But I'm going to end this the line that always sticks out for me:
"Her reply was cruel: Devotion is for fools / who wear their hearts
upon their sleeve. /
Don't you ever change? You stayed the fucking same / I can't believe
you waited for me. for me. for me."
I think its stuck in my head a lot because I was cleaning my apartment
and found a folder of all the poetry my friends and I wrote before I
left for college. We were just a bunch of damn emo kids posting
semi-bad and semi-good poetry on a bulletin board on the internet.
Everytime I find that folder, I go through it and the summer plays out
again for me in memory.
And I think of my big brother Peter.
And walking six miles home in the middle of the night with a wire
sticking through my mouth after screaming at him so hard that the
wires keeping my jaw wired shut had snapped.
