[won't somebody save us]

i think our little coffee maker is broken, because even though i plugged it in and loaded it with coffee and water this morning and then even actually remembered to turn it on, it refused to make me a pot even though i stood in the kitchen and stared balefully at it for ten minutes. eventually i put the still dry grounds and fresh water into the big coffee pot and called it good, but coffee pot. >:(


the little coffee pot's refusal to do its job is actually a fairly accurate metaphor for my professional life at the moment, right down to me staring balefully at all the people who are making my job harder rather than easier, and even though i should probably put real pants on and pick up my pay check sooner rather than later, for the moment i'm going to listen to centro-matic and drink spiked coffee and sit on the porch.

[making money you can't spend ain't what bein' dead's about]

i watched football and drank beer and texted a. about crazy truckers fans, and then mike cooley made me cry, but what else is new?


it's been more than a year, and he's moved on, and even though i ended it, i called it quits, i keep turning around and finding these scars on my heart and my head and my soul, scars that he left there because i was never good enough or pretty enough or presentable enough. i'm fucking lonely, and i don't trust anybody not to hurt me enough to even try being not lonely.

i'm trying to change my life, and i can't figure out how to do that when i can't stop being angry that he could tell me he loved me and that i wasn't good enough in the same breath.

i don't know how to move on from something i wanted to be over, and that sucks the hardest. i keep falling in love with men i can't have because it's safer than actually putting my heart on the line.

[i wouldn't even mind that war damn eagle is a dumb fucking fight call.]

games at auburn -- and i snicker every time they call auburn/lsu the tiger bowl -- make me wish i really had a sweet boy from alabama to fall in love with. he could be a 'bama fan or he could unironically chant war damn eagle, as long as he took me to the iron bowl. i'd even wear orange or crimson if i had someone to curl up with during the espn saturday night game.

frankly, i'd settle for a wake forest fan right about now, as long as he was sweet tempered and interested in kissing me.



i know a lot of you don't get it, but college football in the south makes my heart and my stomach flip over in that way that happens when you love something too much.

[may you one day carry me home]

oh the sweetest winds, they blow across the south


ryan adams is sort of (completely) the world's biggest douche, but sometimes he writes lines that dig right up under my rib cage, in that soft spot next to my heart.