Ballad of A Thin Man

You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, "Who is that man?"
You try so hard
But you don't understand
Just what you'll say
When you get home

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You raise up your head
And you ask, "Is this where it is?"
And somebody points to you and says
"It's his"
And you say, "What's mine?"
And somebody else says, "Where what is?"
And you say, "Oh my God
Am I here all alone?"

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel
To be such a freak?"
And you say, "Impossible"
As he hands you a bone

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To just give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations

You've been with the professors
And they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of
F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well read
It's well known

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, "Here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan"

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Now you see this one-eyed midget
Shouting the word "NOW"
And you say, "For what reason?"
And he says, "How?"
And you say, "What does this mean?"
And he screams back, "You're a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home"

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin' around
You should be made
To wear earphones

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

-Bob Dylan

Forgive me genevieve for I have lived,
it's been one week since my last confession

come inside, download what's on my mind.

I look at all the things I have done, and the things I have not gone through with, and it turns me around faster than passing acquaintances on la strada. In class we talked about the linear sequence of life, and how it doesnt help anyone to read a stream of consciousness. I had to put that one under my tongue and think about it.

I have these two conflicting desires; the desire to be happy and social the the desire to be completely myself. Sometimes I'm very conflicted. I try to find release here, where the knots of complicating and enriching desires can soak up the magical diffusion of night and come unwoven for a moment.

the reality of what I am is beyond my understanding, and beyond the comprehension of most...hell I imagine some people have it figured out just as some people never will know they don't.

everyone wants to pass the truth onto their children, but not the painful truths. Instead they find them out as they grow, and they turn back to their parents with a feeling of being done a disservice. It is a trial of love, to watch your children meet a godless world, hoping they pray aloud so you can keep the painful truths at a controlled distance. a parent's gift is the love they feel for their child, and as it is a strength it is a weakness. i'm no model for how to live or who to be. I don't even really know what kind of example I'd be setting.