Ragged Company

If this sounds mildly familiar in spots, then congrats on your knowledge of Grace Potter and the Nocturnals. Wine and their music was a huge influence on this one.

Ragged Company

And we’ll drink away our fortunes,
trading twilight for midnight
Wasted bodies wasting time
Waiting while we’re wading,
merely skimming the surface
of love and fear and apologies
Naively approaching daylight
and guessing at what we know--
Are we falling or flying
in and out of this oblivion?
It's okay now
We can smile at lost time
and ragged company

Dead Skin

Yay! I'm back to bum everyone out again. Even though this entry is really short, it's been quite the work in progress. What a pain in the ass.

Dead Skin

I can’t quite contend,
but who would want
dead skin
to grow back in?

Suppose slowly we shed
Watch it all slough off
Bit by bit,
day by day

All in all,
it’s as simple as this:
Together we scratch,
separately we heal

But until we finally learn,
we scratch while we scar
because scars always last
through seasonal skin

Learning from the Bf Application

So I recently made the amendment to my [still in progress] Boyfriend Application entry--this was where I added that I need to make sure that (at this point in time) the cute boys that cross my prowling path do not, in fact, have children. Take last night at the bar: I was dancing around a tiny bit schmammered to some asstastic 80s tunes celebrating my cousin's last unofficial night out as a bachelorette. So the only other single girl in our party and myself agreed to catch boys off-guard by double teaming them for dancing. Hey, it's trashy, but what do you expect when you combine a bachelorette party + sweatin' to the 80s. So we snag one dancing to Black Betty (which I realize isn't an 80s song). He's cool enough to put up with our shenanigans for the song. Bitchin'. So later we're all dancing around to the Isley Bros. Shout! (damn, yet another non-80s tune--this 80s party was way off now that I think about it) Also, when I say dancing, at this point it was more sliding around on the beer/sweat/other drenched concrete floor. Beside the point, so this one comes around to dance with me again. We get to last call and it's time for the bachelorette party to head back to the hotel. I tell dancing fool that we're out and he follows me up to the top level. He questions my age because, well, I look illegal in all 50 states. We exchange the real numbers--turns out this one is 32 and divorced. Uh oh. So what's the first thing out of my mouth?
"Ah, 32 and divorced, have children?"
"Yep, and everything that comes with it."
"Fabulous and that's my cue to run to the exit."

See, I'm learning!