There’s too many men, too many people
Making too many problems
And there’s not much love to go around
Can’t you see this is the land of confusion?
This is the world we live in
And these are the hands we’re given
Use them and let’s start trying
To make it a place worth living in
Just had an argument about life shit (because of cancer) with D, and then he had to leave to get Frey from band practice before we really had a chance to talk it out and make up. Now DMB is playing Some Devil during the Wednesday night concert, and I kind of just want to lie down and cry forever.
This poem was written six days before she committed suicide, and is believed to be her last poem.
It gives me chills.
I’ve been a big Sylvia Plath fan for a long time, and there are two songs about her that I love.
First up: Crackle and Drag by Paul Westerberg.
What’s the matter here?
You never repair
The lady’s cursed with insight
You never fix her, with a cold stare
She’s all broken inside
She made a good go, like a weeping willow
Her limbs clung to the ground
She closed the window, and made a pillow
And lay her head down
And as her baby slept, she took a long deep breath
Now they’re zipping her up in a bag
Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag
And the Cadillac’s waiting to take her away
Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag
Another head cold, another spirit old
Mmmm, Febuary
Her hair was dirty, and she was 30 in 1963
And while her baby slept she took a long deep breath
And they’re zipping her up in a bag
Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag
The Cadillac’s waiting to take her away
Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag
And drag, and drag, and drag
She made a good go, for a weeping willow
She stuffed some rags on the floor
She closed the window
She made a pillow on the oven door
And took a long deep breath
While her baby slept
Now they’re zipping her up in a bag
Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag
And the Cadillac’s waiting to take her away
Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag
They’re zipping her up in a bag
Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag
The Cadillac’s waiting to take her away
Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag
Hear her blacks crackle and drag
❤️❤️❤️
And then there’s Sylvia Plath by Ryan Adams:
I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
Busted tooth and a smile
And cigarette ashes in her drink
The kind that goes out and then sleeps for a week
The kind that goes out on her
To give me a reason, for well, I dunno
And maybe she’d take me to France
Or maybe to Spain and she’d ask me to dance
In a mansion on the top of a hill
She’d ash on the carpets
And slip me a pill
Then she’d get pretty loaded on gin
And maybe she’d give me a bath
How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
And she and I would sleep on a boat
And swim in the sea without clothes
With rain falling fast on the sea
While she was swimming away, she’d be winking at me
Telling me it would all be okay
Out on the horizon and fading away
And I’d swim to the boat and I’d laugh
I gotta get me a Sylvia Plath
And maybe she’d take me to France
Or maybe to Spain and she’d ask me to dance
In a mansion on the top of a hill
She’d ash on the carpets
And slip me a pill
Then she’d get pretty loaded on gin
And maybe she’d give me a bath
How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
❤️❤️❤️
he’s a fucking angel ❤️
From Ladies –
Ruminations on the looming effect
And the parallax view, and the figure
And the form, and the revolving door that keeps
Turning out more and more
Good women like you
Yet another woman, to whom I won’t get through
…
Ladies, ladies, ladies, ladies
Take it easy, when he leaves me, please be my guest
To whatever I might’ve left
In his kitchen cupboards, in the back of his bathroom cabinets
And oh yes, oh yes, oh yes
There’s a dress in the closet, don’t get rid of it, you’d look good in it
I didn’t fit in it, it was never mine
It belonged to the ex wife of another ex of mine
She left it behind, with a note
One line it said, “I don’t know if I’m coming across, but I’m really trying”
She was very kind
…
Nobody can replace anybody else
So, it would be a shame to make it a competition
And no love is like any other love
So, it would be insane to make a comparison with you
My current favorite off the new album, with which I am completely obsessed btw, in a way that only women who came to age in a very specific time in the late 90s can be (oh hello, class of 97).
– Karen O (YYY)
I would beg to disagree, but begging disagrees with me.
(Fiona Apple)
This is fucking fantastic. I recommend listening with headphones if you can.
Days like this, I don’t know what to do with myself
All day, and all night
I wander the halls along the walls
And under my breath, I say to myself
“I need fuel to take flight”
And there’s too much going on
– Fiona Apple
This had me in my feels on the drive home from the office today. (Otherwise, it was quite enjoyable to get out of the house for a few hours).
When you came jumping down the stairs
Screaming bloody awful
You woke up God and everyone
Screaming bloody awful
So we took you to the doctor
He said yeah it’s a bad one
And it’s such a shame about it
‘Cause she’s so pretty
And then the earth started shaking
And yeah it was crazy
Heaven and hell came crashing down
And then the earth started shaking
Yeah it was crazy
Heaven and hell came crashing
They came crashing
It was beautiful and terrible
So beautiful and terrible
The phone call
You never expect
Did somebody get it yet
It’s a sound you never forget
Because the earth starts shaking
And yeah it’s crazy
Heaven and hell come crashing down
And then the earth starts shaking
Yeah it’s so crazy
Heaven and hell come crashing
They come crashing
They come cr-cr-crashing
It’s so beautiful and terrible
So beautiful and terrible
It was something of an end
Of a lovely and a wild thing
So beautiful in the morning
You’re beautiful
So beautiful
You’re beautiful in the morning
And I can’t seem to get it through your head
No matter what I do
I can’t seem to get it through your head
That I always love you
**If you have never listened to My Brightest Diamond you are missing out. Her sound is haunting and beautiful. I first discovered her back in the early 2000’s when she opened for The Decemberists at The Pageant.
I don’t understand about
The weather outside
Or the harmony in a tune
Or why somebody lied
But there’s solace a bit in submitting
To the fitfully, cryptically true
What’s happened, has happened
What’s coming is already on its way
With a role for me to play
And I don’t understand
I never understand
But I’m trying to understand
There’s nothing else I can do
-Fiona Apple
