Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Storm Chasers Have this Market Locked Down

In a newly manufactured home we sat with one another growing fat from the excess of dreams abandoned. Our instincts sufficiently dulled, we clung to the hope that one day we’d live outside of our square steel box. We held our children tightly, to protect them from the world and we rushed them down stairs when the wind storms came. Our homes, torn from their foundation, were scattered throughout the terrain. When we found each other, we were alone in our shells, mindlessly wandering around displaced halls. Do you remember me? We used to live here together. We ask these questions to spark a memory in our fading history. Humanity, in its inevitable isolation, is often shell-shocked from the experience of living, and reaches out for protection. But the foundation of our home, having been shook to the core, now moves freely, lifting itself from one valley to another. We embrace the storm and move with the wind, because anymore, there’s no safety in staying.

What I’m listening to: Alive- Pearl Jam

Son, she said, have I got a little story for you
who you thought was your daddy was nothing but a...
While you were sitting home alone at age thirteen
Your real daddy was dying, sorry you didn't see him, but I'm glad we talked
I'm still alive
Hey, I'm still alive

she walks slowly across a young man's room
She said I'm ready for you
I can't remember anything to this very day
except the look, the look
now I can't see, I just stare
I, I'm still alive
Hey, I'm still alive

Is something wrong, she said
Well of course there is
You're still alive, she said
Oh, and do I deserve to be
Is that the question
And if so who answers?
I'm still alive
Hey I, I'm still alive

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