damageshc

dreamt a little dream of you

last night i dreamt that if i ran hard enough and jumped high enough that i could just fly away to a place where i could live out a life less cliche.

i've got a plan to convey who i'm trying to portray: elliott, jeff, matthew, chris, stephen, emily, charlyn, and wes - and it's cos we wanted to know the exact same thing: what does it take to finally reach that brass ring?

{my bruised ankles (ego) and my broken feet (dreams) and my heart pounding in the wet city streets. a lack of blood in my extremities from cycling through these false identities.} - scattered thoughts on the brink of sleep only made worse by the songs on repeat.

"mr. sandman, bring me a dream"... make me a person that i have never been by bringing me peace with the sand in your hands that slips through your fingers and lingers when it lands near my nose. nobody knows (nobody knows, nobody knows...) who i want or who i'd haunt.



desperate decline

there's a line in my head and it's been there all week, it goes "i'm still wanting my face on your cheek"... it could have been my fault, but in time you'll see that i believed in love... it didn't believe in me.

it was a world that couldn't work, it was a world that wouldn't hurt, it was a world i couldn't find cos it was only in my mind. and while i sat and listened to ben, you went on and fell in love again. there was a time... if i could just remember when - i thought i'd found our way into cat heaven. it's where exit 86 led to a house of bricks. of summer scented letters and "first day that you met her"s. of sunburned cheeks and the mountains for weeks.

here's to the love i'll never find and to all the crashing bores. you may never be mine, but i will always be yours.

still... i dream your shadow moves across the floor by the light in the hall that slips under my door. but you still go back to your separate bed and i'm left alone in my desperate head.



the prisoner

is it really better to be lost than found? just to keep on writing words to a
hopeless sound? just to make myself feel worse every time you come around? just
to tear my fucking throat up and continue staring at the ground?

i keep on asking "why me?", when i really should be asking "why not me?".

please, please will you tell me all of your dreams cos i'm desperately in need of
something to steal; all the mountains and hills, all the rivers and streams... something tangible for me to feel.

mistakes that i keep repeating.
heartaches... i just keep repeating.

these four letters made a prisoner out of me: H-A-T-E, but these four letters will be the keys to set me free: L-O-V-E.

...another part of my story unfurled.

there is no justice in this world.



frowning fortune

how many more lines until my pen runs dry? how many more sighs until my lungs will fucking die? if i were more verbose would i matter to you? if i won you over, would i get back the life i "knew"? i feel ugly now just like i felt ugly then, i might have even felt love, but i can't remember when. february through august of two thousand and four? god, it's hard to think when your heart is on the floor. thoughts/nightmares that call for constant defeating makes it harder to feel like death's worth cheating. "living in thralls: heart is bleeding, all help needing"... without love to fill the void i just keep on eating.



T.S.B.T.E.H.A.M.

a nose that's full of snot v. a voice that's shot. a life of "have-not" v. "have-fucking-not". a single room, no food, and heart full of strife v. a house, a car, and a lovely wife. would i get that for leaving the wandering life? i'll probably end it with a knife. - this is an invitation to a pity party, but before you R.S.V.P., please take an inventory of the worst things you've done to me.

a dissection of myself before it's done by anybody else:
1. my wallet's always a void from never being employed
2. to remove a sullen mood i cope with plates of food
3. my front of being chaste is a total waste because by own admission i really only do it to avoid suspicion.

...god, here comes those dreaded lines - i guess i'll make them fast. "i was too far gone/i couldn't last."

if pen is truly mightier than the sword. well then, i feel i've been ignored. you won't read these words. you won't see this band. now i only feel disgust and the X on the back of my hand.



love's labor

sitting with my head on a windowpane feeling like nothing will ever be good again. that nothing will ever be as "good" as it "was". i've heard "it gets better", but i know it never does.

how can i believe what's romanticized in books when i've really known is love based on looks? should i just leave "well enough" alone and find someone else for my heart to call home?

sometimes i like to think that you think of me, there's been countless times i've left this letter where i'd knew that you would see.

i'm probably giving myself too much credit...

i know you've seen the letter, but i doubt you even read it.

i've suffered below (my heart), and i've suffered above (my head). i've suffered for show (my art), and i've suffered for a love that just wouldn't grow - i felt it depart. it wasn't apropos, it tore my life apart. my heart, my head, my art... all dead.

i wish that i could just forget:
all the fucks that i regret.
waking up in a cold sweat.
the weight of unpaid debt.

i've walked through the rains, lived the aches and pains, but the feeling never wanes that
life is losses, never gains.



credit where credit is due to: jeff mangum, william shakespeare, chris conley, wes eisold, morrissey, pat ballard/the chordettes, blake schwarzenbach, and dominic mallary.

"recently" we recorded a 6 song EP with kevin kitchel of positive noise in his lansing, mi home studio. it's going to be titled "love's labor" based on the title of a song contained therein and also because this really has been a labor of love for us. we've been playing a few of these songs for the better part of a year and writing and getting out kinks and it's finally come to realization - however pretentious that sounds.


it'll be released on CD first, with a limited run of 100. we constructed the booklets ourselves and they look like tiny 8 page composition books with handwritten lyrics on the pages and the CD inside of a sleeve attatched to the inside back cover. they really came out great and were everything we had hoped they would be. we've already sold a few on the tour we are on with CUT SHORT, and have around 30 of them saved for people who we are the closest with. the rest will be available to buy in our online "merch" store here, as soon as we get home from tour (jan 11.)

after we sell out of the CD's, we'll use the proceeds of that to get it pressed as a 7", but it may happen sooner than the selling out of the CD's.

for the days we will be on tour with CUT SHORT, check our myspace.

love,
dominic

busy weekend of two grand rapids shows.

first show was on friday with CHARLES THE OSPREY, CAIN MARKO, NATIVE, and LA DISPUTE. adam and jordan from LA DISPUTE asked us a few weeks back if we'd like to play this show, and we agreed to even though it was the mixtape venue because they are awesome guys. we arrived and could already smell the bullshit from the parking lot. the first thing we hear as we load our gear in near the front of the stage is "remember when that COMADRE band refused to play on the stage? how lazy is that?", to which we replied, "we're playing on the floor." their "sound guy" (i'm using that term rather loosely) tried to argue with us on at least 8 different angles as to why this is a bad idea (would allow less people inside, would sound better mic-ed, etc.) before finally settling on the reason that "their new PA would have massive feedback if the microphone crossed the stage line 'boundary'." this was obvious crybaby bullshit because when the venue used to be called skelletones, bands played on the floor frequently without an ounce of microphone feedback. we started and there were a load of kids inside, and the place was already sweltering. as we went further into our set i could hear my vocals getting quieter and quieter. by the end of the first song i couldn't hear myself at all. someone said they could hear ryan in the second mic so i took that one and started. immediately i could hear my vocals lowering so i yelled at the sound guy to turn them back up and there was no answer. essentially we played without vocals, but fuck it. the venue went to shit and will go down in flames from shady business practice and inflated egos of people who are only aware of AP related bands.

listen to LA DISPUTE.

saturday was with LAZARUS TAXA, ATTENTION SPAN, and SIN ORDEN at britty's house. LAZARUS TAXA is a band from the east side of michigan who play a crusty hardcore style with some pretty intense parts. ATTENTION SPAN is fast and furious hardcore punk with some of the best people from grand rapids contained therein. SIN ORDEN is a fast pissed hardcore punk band from chicago with spanish lyrics, i recommend catching them if you have the chance as they put on a radical live show. there was a great crowd reaction for all the bands and the florescent bulb above the drumset would sometimes flash with the groove of the bass tones. i played the entirety of our set with a batman mask on.