Oh, my talking bird
Though your feathers are tattered and furled
I’ll love you all your days
‘Til the breath leaves your delicate frame
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We stopped at Bixby Bridge, just so I could stand there and listen to Bixby Canyon by Death Cab.
It had been bugging me for a while
That Death Cab For Cutie made a song for the New Moon soundtrack. it made me feel ridiculously hollow; How could one of the bands that has taught me the most collaborate with the book franchise that embodies every flaw in society?
I decided yesterday to just shut up and listen to it. And the thing is, it’s actually a good song. It’s far more Death Cab than Twilight. So why was I making a big deal? I guess I have a fear of everything/everyone I love selling out and becoming something different. Like all they were before would evaporate into thin air and I’d be left with a shallow, murky puddle reflecting my displeasure. But, no, Death Cab sounded great, as usual.
I’ve been worried lately for this guy I know. He has this wonderful, complex mind, but for about a year he’s been on the verge of going out with this girl who proves to be remarkably shallow and sickening. She’s ridiculously sweet sometimes, but they don’t match up. There are so many things to him that she could never possibly understand. Maybe I should just start trusting that he’ll never lose that, even to her.
