1. |
I'm not nice
03:51
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rain rusts all my bent bike spokes, u-locked to your stairs. circle around empty lots & announce condo plans. trace footsteps from two years back, that new face made me blush. mailbox tags, short cut paths; things that I should trust. & I never said how I always felt ugly when you kissed all over my body. taking in sweatshirts & standing in washrooms, ignoring the shapes & surrounding tattoos. I never said how it always felt painful wishing you saw me the way that I see myself. I've been so confused.
& I grew my hair for an entire year. I reread all my books, waiting for characters & authors to save me. I didn't know where else to look. all of the recurring nightmares I had haunted my best dreams, taking my weakest & vulnerable parts & showing them right to me. all the ideas I had when I moved here got snowed on overnight, or ripped off of telephone poles by strangers. terribly worded lies. all the enthusiasm that I had has turned into jaded hate. you fell in love with me when I was drunk.
is this just a phase? I am so afraid that I can't make the change.
now our old bedrooms have doubled in rent & I'm starting to forget climbing each night into different loft beds with feet that I miss.
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2. |
let's hug now?
02:36
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skipping stones on asphalt. missing meals in car rides. the mosquitoes sound like out of tune violins playing random notes. in between sidings & five year plans I miss home.
I get jealous of people opening doors to their homes or walking their dogs & knowing the names of streets. I wish I could miss all that I have: small change & my sore feet. my train grease hands. closeted secrets. ten provinces crossed & north of 60. my least favourite place.
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3. |
people our age
01:57
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our toes under blankets look like the tops of mountains that I haven't seen yet. burning the second coal. listening, a typewriter drum roll comes through the bedroom wall. ignoring, pretending not to notice the heartbeat or the contact that practically screams "come closer to me".
I didn't ask for this body.
pointless walks through the south end. my reflection in a van turning right. waiting for the lights to change into colours I can't see. I say something you can't hear about our summer plans. the sidewalk falls down hills. when you stand at the bottom, you swallow streets. trade me your girl hips for my wide boy shoulders. don't stare at me.
I didn't ask for this body.
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4. |
comics/maps
03:00
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I rode a borrowed bike at night through downtown raleigh with your old backpack & a coaster brake that hardly worked. sitting on my keys, useless with changed locks. glass bottles & postcards. writing roommates & to my grandparents. at one a.m. we were close on the floor, trying to ignore & hide from the full room. drunk kids. movement. the hoods of our sleeping bags attach hiding both our faces. scared. aware. while southern strangers speak with accents & make fun of us.
we met up before dawn under the clock tower in the middle of a dead downtown street. winter sunrise. halfway up the hill. polluted water self deprecates. accordion & longboard. scarves. dripping nose. before both our names changed. we were in denial. the mayor is a liar & he's condemned everything including you & me.
you hid in your room with beer in your hair. too scared to move. swollen forehead & thrown empty cans all over the stained floor. outside your door they heard it all. phone calls. curled under sheets. trembling when found. I ran as fast as I could uphill. & the sounds all turned into confusing nouns. violent & heavy. you drowned. I couldn't fall asleep there. the lights were still on & I watched from your loft bed as she wouldn't stop. I ran into her a few days ago. I couldn't say a word but just thought about you.
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5. |
share the blame
01:22
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I threw all my instruments into the gulf of st. lawrence. foggy & uncertain tide. took photographs that don't exist of a broken estuary with illegible & scribbled lines.
but woke up in an apartment, smoke filled next to a bucket. I don't recognize voices just high pitch notes. heading west to find you in dreams. figments turn into shaking nausea sickness.
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6. |
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under quiet stars, without mention if we'd move back in the fall. from 12 a.m. to 3, outside business parks following the lights towards town. crushed ballast stone beneath our clumsy stepping feet, half open eyelids & dizzying bright memories of rivers meeting up like dreams, sediment & language spoken secretly.the confluences connect all thoughts. I have water up my nose when I wake up.
the rooms we inhabited, filled up with skeletons ebbing away flooded sailboats & abdomens. you gave up on everyone & watched without saying a word. it's raining outside again, walking down gottingen. pretending I'm not here but somewhere I haven't been. north in the arctic balancing on the utilidors.
instead of fighting in hallways drunk mumbling our history, let's draw maps with trap streets on the liquor store receipts that get swept up with cat fur & under the oven. you'll yell at the ocean, but ignore reality.
soaked from head to toe in all your old clothes hoping you'll come home.
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the official suckers Halifax, Nova Scotia
"the official suckers do not suck. i imagine most of the kids at the show think they suck the least out of everyone who
played. for such intricate songs, with lyrics which don't rhyme, i was amazed by how many people knew all the words..." - show review by byron.
//
fairy boy started with a sad gender fluid teen obsessed with the weakerthans who couldn't sing so she screamed instead.
2006 - 2013
... more
the official suckers recommends:
the most beautiful girl playing the saddest songs. beyon is a shy jackalope with a heart full of magic & gold. "behind your eyes there is perfect weather"
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If All Else Fails (Cry and Cry Again)
by Filthy Liars
my tough as nails brothers playing beautiful, self reflective songs. miss you kids so badly. "I remember how it felt when I said & I meant that your head on my chest made my history hurt less"
go to albumIf you like the official suckers, you may also like:
Probably Nothing, Possibly Everything
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supported by 5 fans who also own “drink water”
I love that I always calls me back to it.
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Well Soon
by Walter Mitty and his Makeshift Orchestra
Summer sounds from San Luis Obispo just waiting for a backyard BBQ, mason jar cocktails, and fairy lights.
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Sorry I'm So Sensitive
by Bea Stewart
The second EP from Northern Irish singer-songwriter Bea Stewart runs from gentle folk to pillowy pop ballads, all perfectly executed.
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