Where the hell have I been?
I fell in love with a painting over breakfast and took the artist's number - does that particular piece mean as much to him if I never call? It's a strange phenomen: the more you make your thoughts public, the more you doubt they actually exist when you opt to privatize. I'd be lying if I said that I write soley for myself. If that were true, I'd put it in a journal beside my bed and never let you in on my secrets. I would never wash my hair or put on a pretty dress, and I certainly wouldn't flirt with you at parties, if there wasn't something in it for me.

I'm convinced that we do it all for the love, whether it comes from family or friends, or perfect strangers, or our own personal muse. If my words never left the privacy of my keyboard, they would still fulfill a need in me to create art through exposition, through my self-centered pseudo-philosophical musings. I would still be convinced I had contributed something to this world through the means that I am programmed to believe are valuable. I would also believe that I'm somehow rewarded for it, that my karmic bank account is bumped up a notch for having "left my mark". But who gets to decide these things, anyway? If you're reading this right now, you've either assigned some abstract value to my meanderings or you're an axe-wielding stalker, and why should I trust either one of you?

I suppose it comes down to a perception of some shared experience between us, even if you don't know my ass from a hole in the wall. Paintings move me because they strike a nerve somewhere, and it doesn't have to have even the remotest connection to the artist. A trumpet player on Hawthorne almost moved me to tears this morning with his stilted rendition of "Rainbow Connection", but he wasn't anywhere near that play I did in the 5th grade. Sure, he was playing for spare change to get a cup of coffee, but doesn't he want to know that I'll remember him tomorrow?

Is art the affirmation, or is affirmation really the art?

Glass Houses
Where did the night go, the night that you loved me
When I made you feel famous, said what you needed to hear
Under the glow of a streetlamp I let you seduce me
Now you've taken my power and run like a coward
Your laughter still rings in my ear

Now the sun is signing his name on the pale of my shoulder
And even the birds sing a song of the lady who fell
If I said it was worth it, would you shackle me tighter?
My body lies broken, my head on the turmbel
Your jester, your jezebel

CHORUS
So I'll go down for your favor
Cuz it makes you feel stronger
To see my reflection in your glass houses

I showed you courage every day of my life
Why should I stop now when my pain's at an end?
I came to you sweetly when I was too young to know better
Now you're too scared to open your eyes
In the places where you've always wanted to go

CHORUS

BRIDGE
The last thing I wanted to tell you is you don't mean nothin'
Your stories don't become the truth just cuz you say them out loud

CHORUS

Send me right back to the place that you found me
My portrait is tainted, you'll be glad when I'm gone
And all you'll remember are the diamonds I never even had
The lies that you tell of me, the name that you stole from me
Maria Antonia

CHORUS

And now I've gone down
And you will feel stronger
Until you see that it's your reflection in your glass home
The last thing I wanted to tell you is you don't mean nothin'...