Vol. 1, Issue 11 | Deciphering the Secret Language of Mix Tapes

[originally written 17 August 2006, 5:29pm]

...or rather, cee-dees. finding that theme, that lyric, that intended-yet-subconscious message from creator to receiver... the one that says everything that isn't being said...

because it is saccharine and cliché to say those three little words? is that it? to profess love. no, not profess. to name it. to call it by a name we've given it and use to cheapen it by exclaiming that we have it for inanimate objects and television programs and ultimately forget what it actually feels like. likened unto taoism... it is unnamable, unexplainable, unencumbered by all that is petty and small.

and yet...

i find that little smile, because
i've got you and you've got me.
i've got you... you've got me
everybody knows
i've got you... you've got me
i've got you... you've got me

prophet 6-zero-0-9-one... you can hurt me... proximity alarms?
s-h one-0-1-five-1... i can hurt you... hearts too close... collision imminent.
the serial numbers of affection... adoration... physicality... sure, intimacy creates opportunity for pain, but also pleasure, in all its forms.

you won't have to strain to look into my eyes.

i want to take you far
from the cynics in this town
and kiss you on the mouth

we'll give ourselves new names
identities erased

am i forgetting myself again? becoming a caricature of myself... i stumble across a private entry in my journal, talking about the biochemical reaction that i have in her presence. does it somehow negate my own identity? or push me to be the idealized version of myself, the one i keep in my head, to guide my thoughts and actions?

what does it mean? i'm left to ponder... my personal version of jack's lament...

i find no concrete answers in the tracks... but i do find solace.

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Portlandia Prevails.