The Bottle Cap Crab

Scuttling around,
On the beach for a shell,
Finding a home,
To suit him well,
The hermit crab looks,
And the hermit crab seeks,
The hermit crab peers,
The hermit crab peeks,
Until he finds,
A shiny clear shell,
"What's this?"
He says,
"Oh this is quite swell!
This is a great home,
As far as I can tell!"
He adjusts it to himself,
And thinks, oh so bright,
I believe I will sleep.
Safe,
And comfortable tonight.

Oh come on. It's just music. It's not even a bad song.

It's a lovely song with nothing but a the corresponding voices of two singers, then in the end I think there are about five. The voices and I think a ukulele or something. Then at the end allong with the singing and the ukulele or something there is clapping and drums.

It's called You and I by Ingrid Michaelson. My carpool plays it a lot and I adore it.

Lyrics:

(Ingrid):

Don't you worry there, my honey,
We might not have any money,
But we've got our love to pay the bills,
Maybe I think you're cute and funny,
Maybe I wanna do what bunnies do with you if you know what I mean.

(Refrain)

Oh let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France,
Let's get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance,
Let's get rich and build a house on a mountain making everybody look like ants,
Way up there, you and I, you and I.

(Random dude):

Well you might be a bit confused,

(Ingrid):

And you might be a little bit bruised,

(Random dude):

But, baby, how we spoon like no one else,
So I will help you read those books,
If you will sooth my worried looks,

(Both):

And we will put the lonesome on the shelf.

(Refrain x2)

It's a charming little song. You should listen to it.

Knowing

Some secrets,
Are given to you by mere acquaintances,
But are quite powerful,
They might be put lightly,
But the deeper meaning is present,
You don’t know what to say,
How to react,
Or how to harbour this knowledge in your mind,
You just know now,
And this knowing will burn your soul forever.

Unhidden Gazes of Awkwardness

At school, I take a speech class. No, I don’t have trouble speaking; it’s a class on public speaking and is required.

My teacher always stares at me. It’s really strange. It’s like he’s looking at me with an “understanding” of some sort, but there’s nothing to understand. His views of me must be wrong. And it’s kinda creepy looking over at him and his eyes are fixed on me. I want to just crawl down a hole and avoid it. He doesn’t even look away when he sees me see him staring (that’s a tongue-twister). It’s awkward.

To crawl away,
And hide away,
Might make this day,
Fade away,
Just let it end,
And you, my friend,
Will see the glory of tomorrow.

Disgusted

I throw up,
Disgusted,
Maybe it's nerves,
Or I might be allergic,
To something,
Or someone,
Hatred,
Pure boiling,
Hatred.

Rain of Tears

The sky rains down,
Its tears of pain,
Tears of sorrow,
Tears of rain,
Sometmes I can,
Feel the same,
Why, oh why,
Must the sky cry,
Why, oh why,
Why does it cry?
Many say,
That it is this way,
For the love,
Of the world,
Has faded,
Faded,
Fades and dies,
So now it cries,
Now it cries,
For our pain,
These tears of rain,
Tears of rain,
Falling,
Down.

Cookies for The Singing Sighs

Today I am baking cookies.

My friend’s family just had their EIGHTH kid. Yes. EIGHT. They had to move out of their old house because ten people just can’t all fit together in only four rooms. So they have a new home.

And it’s HUGE.

I haven’t seen past their kitchen, but id it’s anything like it, it’s pretty spectacular. We’ve made dinner for them, a fruit salad, and now the cookies.

I love making cookies from scratch. I make up the recipe as I go. I just recall old recipes I used, and mash them all together. The cookies end up tasting delicious. I’m not baking from scratch today. No time, I guess. Just using the old tub stuff.

One time, there was an industrial sized tub of cookie dough in our basement fridge. In the course of a week, I had eaten the entire thing. I left the empty tub in there though, much to my mother’s dismay. Needless to say, we stopped buying the factory stuff and I baked my cookies from scratch.

It’s quite cloudy. For some reason it reminds me of a celestial landscape. There are no hills by here, though, so I haven’t a clue why.

The sky looks like a sigh,
It breathes,
And wisps,
It waters up,
Like a tearing eye,
Yet,
It doesn’t cry,
It only allows the rest of the landscape,
To feel its sorrow.

Poetry of Simplicity

Do you hear the thunder on the shore?
Striking the sand in fury?
The earth explodes where sea meets sand,
And love rains in the flurry,
Sparkling rain of sea glass flies,
Glistening in the stormy night,
All the sand fleas scuttle away,
In a mad and mangled flight,
The ocean roars,
In shouting waves,
The voice of a deep great storm,
And though the moon doesn't shine tonight,
You'll see it in the morn.


(P.S. The last line refers to the brightness of the molten lighting stricken sand that is now sea glass)

Say High to the Trans Fatties

I had a chocolate yogurt mousse thingy this morning. Though it is yogurt, that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s healthy. It has one gram of trans fat.

I asked myself. “It’s only one gram. One measly gram! How can one gram be painful?” But then I thought. One drop of arsenic in your drink, one spray of a skunk, one second to live.

Seems everything is relative.

But there’s also the phrase, “One is the loneliest number.” One lonely trans fat gram, with no others around probably makes it grumpy. It has no one to panic with when it’s about to land in your stomach. It’s probably only bad for you because its grumpiness upsets your stomach.

Maybe... if there were two trans fat grams in that yogurt, they would be happier.

And my stomach wouldn’t be hurting right now.

The Ocean Pointes South

I don’t live by the ocean. I live in a small town with golf course lawns and is secretly full of druggies, but the adults never find out. The adults are those rich people that plow away forests for their private properties. I live in Michigan, right next to Detroit in a suburban type place known as Grosse Pointe. I live here, however I don’t see much of it. The most I see is within a small place full of small business shops known as The Village.

The Village has a TCBY, Burger Pointe (yes, with an “e”), Kroger, Sanders, Blockbuster, and other places I’m too lazy to mention. It’s like a strip mall, but not really. I can’t exactly describe it. It’s like a miniature version of the Mack Avenue setup.

Even though I know every store in the Village ever since Jacobson’s closed, I know nothing. I live here in Grosse Pointe, but I only live in my house, on my street. I don’t even go to school here.

The school in this hidden secret corner of the universe is Grosse Pointe South. Its enrolees are as notorious as the school’s reputation itself. Since it’s in this part of the imaginary world, it seems a nice place from the view of an onlooker. But South is like a golden toilet. Pretty cool on the outside, until you see what’s on the inside.

I shadowed there when I was in eighth grade. It’s a nice well-kept school, but it’s the inhabitants that make it hideous. I won’t go into details (yet). Most of my friends go there, but I’ve made plenty of new one’s at my school a million miles away.

I attend Mercy, but my grades are getting me in a bad way... Maybe I should stop talking about my life. I mean, I want to, but... it’s just... painful.


AnneX out.