Kite - True colours

we got a situation

where your presence tears me apart it's not that i don't want to see you

oh god i do if i could take it easy and let passion back in my heart if i could stop comparing to you but i still do don't mention love my true colours don't talk about it i still think of us we got a situation when i see you its making me sad i wish i could be fun around you oh lord i do for some it takes a minute to open up and let someone in for some it's once in a lifetime and i've had mine don't mention love my true colours don't talk about it i still think of us i couldn't see the ending come i guess yeah i just kept dreaming and now i'm useless don't mention love my true colours don't talk about it i still think of us

The Bridge Poem

I read a piece of this poem in a book about racism a while ago and it comes to mind when I feel like fucking shit up. When I'm sick of feeling like a fucking diplomat to everything and everyone. 

THE BRIDGE POEM

By Donna Kate Rushin

I've had enough 
I'm sick of seeing and touching 
Both sides of things 
Sick of being the damn bridge for everybody

Nobody 
Can talk to anybody 
Without me Right?

I explain my mother to my father my father to my little sister 
My little sister to my brother my brother to the white feminists 
The white feminists to the Black church folks the Black church folks 
To the Ex-hippies the ex-hippies to the Black separatists the 
Black separatists to the artists the artists to my friends' parents...

Then 
I've got the explain myself 
To everybody

I do more translating 
Than the Gawdamn U.N.

Forget it 
I'm sick of it

I'm sick of filling in your gaps

Sick of being your insurance against 
The isolation of your self-imposed limitations 
Sick of being the crazy at your holiday dinners 
Sick of being the odd one at your Sunday Brunches 
Sick of being the sole Black friend to 34 individual white people

Find another connection to the rest of the world 
Find something else to make you legitimate 
Find some other way to be political and hip

I will not be the bridge to your womanhood 
Your manhood 
Your human-ness

I'm sick of reminding you not to 
Close off too tight for too long

I'm sick of mediating with your worst self 
On behalf you your better selves

I am sick 
Of having to remind you 
To breathe 
Before you suffocate 
Your own fool self

Forget it 
Stretch or drown 
Evolve or die

The bridge I must be 
Is the bridge to my own power 
I must translate 
My own fears 
Mediate 
My own weaknesses

I must be the bridge to nowhere 
But my true self 
And then 
I will be useful

Lately

The best scene from The Boat That Rocked

Miss the man

I truly miss Lou Reed, to the extent that it's almost awkward. I don't know why, because I haven't listened to him that much. More so Velvet Underground. I've always had big platonic relationships with musicians and actors. An intense love of their work or the way I percieved them could overtake my sense of being for a while. Escapism of some sorts or an chemical imbalance or whatever you feel like calling it.
 

I love this woman's work

Except scenery rearrangements