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ninkasa

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I know I'm not your favorite record

The songs you grow to love never stick at first

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Created on 2011-04-06 01:11:50 (#719420), last updated 2013-04-18 (626 weeks ago)

14,161 comments received, 55 comments posted

8,665 Journal Entries, 617 Tags, 0 Memories, 15 Icons Uploaded

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About

Name:	ninkasa
Birthdate:	Apr 24
Website:	My LJ

Mini Bio

This girl is a stencil of a brushstroke in the rain
She's a ghost of the city, she's a body through the windscreen
This girl is the snowfall where the spring should have been
She's the stains on the pages of a top shelf magazine
This girl is a black eye, she's a bruise on your knee
She's the ashes of the people that you really meant to be
This girl's the resurrection, she's the comeback
She's the absinthe and whiskey, she is poetry and Prozac

This girl is taking bets, this girl's a silhouette, can't you see?

This girl is the flutter of fake lashes in the mirror
She's a ragged edged fedora or a Spanish souvenir
This girl is the clean cut, she's the frozen ground
She's a knife drawn down the side street when there's no-one else around

This girl's a forged ticket to a Lloyd Webber show
She's the far end of the graveyard up where the nettles grow
This girl is the rainbow in the dewy eyed stares
She's the name tag on the toe of your long dead love affairs

This girl is taking bets, this girl's a silhouette, can't you see?
This girl is taking bets, this girl's a silhouette, can't you see?

This girl is the wild smile, the icy stare
She's the crackle of the static, she's the curses, she's the prayers
This girl is the junkie in the children's matinee
She's the 4 minute warning, she is hell to pay

This girl is the plunge pool she is cocaine and Kodak
Now she's out setting sail on the ocean of the soundtrack
This girl is the shaking hand, the rattling cup
With a button and a note saying things are looking up

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Show me where you found your faith and
Does it help you sleep at night
I am not that complicated
I just need some time
Because it doesn't feel right
And I'm mostly very tired
Life is easy when you fake it
Right until you realize
Your happiness is unrelated
To anything you have inside
And it doesn't feel right
And I'm mostly very tired
Every chance I get to distract myself
I won't try to convince myself
That there's anything for real or
That we're sure of what we feel
Quiet time is underrated
I still can't stand to be alone
That might be why I'm so unstable
Barely able to hold on
And I just don't feel right
And I'm mostly very tired

--------------------------
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When someone loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"There's an evolutionary imperative why we give a crap about our family and friends. And there's an evolutionary imperative why we don't give a crap about anybody else. If we loved all people indiscriminately, we couldn't function."

"If you meet the Buddha, kill the Buddha, if you meet your father, kill your father, free of everything you are bound by nothing, live the life that is given to you."

I think Pringles' initial intention was to make tennis balls. But on the day that the rubber was supposed to show up, a big truckload of potatoes arrived. But Pringles is a laid-back company. They said, "Fuck it. Cut 'em up!"

I would there were no age between ten and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting.

"True happiness is of a retired nature, and an enemy of pomp and noise; it arises in the first place, from the enjoyment of one's self; and in the next, from the friendship and conversation of a few select companions."

Have faith, your story knows what needs to be told, just pick up your pen and WRITE.

Here's a sigh to those who love me
And a smile to those who hate
And whatever sky's above me
Here's a heart for every fate

Go and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
Or who cleft the devil's foot,
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy's stinging,
And find
What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind.

If thou be'st born to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
Till age snow white hairs on thee,
Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,
All strange wonders that befell thee,
And swear,
No where
Lives a woman true, and fair.

Happiness and not misery had been mine
Though I may never win nor yet deserve
Her favour, yet the sight of her I serve
Would have sufficed to have contented me

I am currently cross-posting everything from my Livejournal to my Dreamwidth as well, which is why everything here might seem a little bit off at first. We'll see how things go in time.

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