Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Heading Out

Not a whole to say right now. Yes, I'm excited. Leaving in an hour or so. Wish me luck, and you'll hear from me again in a few weeks, maybe more than a few.

Hooah.

The Final Hours

The last night that I will sleep in my own bed. The last time I will shower in my own shower. The last time I sit doing nothing but relaxing in familiar surroundings. The gravity of it still eludes me. You know that you're leaving all of this behind, but there is no sense of finality.

I hung out with Sarah, which was cool, then delivered Chance his 'new' 1983 Chevy Citation, WHITE HATCHBACK OF DOOM!!! Chilled out with Barlow after that, hitting up our usual haunt which is Cattin's. Not a lot to write about that. Always good times. On the drive home, he put on A Perfect Circle's "Fiddle and Drum" for me, which was really cool, and also pretty surreal. If you've heard the song at all, maybe this will make sense to you, if not, well I guess we can't win 'em all.

I'll post once more, after I wake up, and all that. For now, I'm extremely tired. In good spirits. Time to relax and try NOT to take everything for granted, for about five minutes. That's all I'm willing to do, sorry.

And so once again
My dear Johnny my dear friend
And so once again you are fightin' us all
And when I ask you why
You raise your sticks and cry, and I fall
Oh, my friend
How did you come
To trade the fiddle for the drum

You say I have turned
Like the enemies you've earned
But I can remember
All the good things you are
And so I ask you please
Can I help you find the peace and the star
Oh, my friend
What time is this
To trade the handshake for the fist

And so once again
Oh, America my friend
And so once again
You are fighting us all
And when we ask you why
You raise your sticks and cry and we fall
Oh, my friend
How did you come
To trade the fiddle for the drum

You say we have turned
Like the enemies you've earned
But we can remember
All the good things you are
And so we ask you please
Can we help you find the peace and the star

Oh my friend
We have all come
To fear the beating of your drum