Forty-Something Years in Ninaland


Bye Bye Miss American Pie

American-pie-e1331733449199A long long time ago
I can still remember how
That music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And maybe they’d be happy for a while…

I want to make people happy.

I want these words to make them smile.

I want to be that girl, just for a little while,

I can’t rhyme forever, it won’t last,

But for a moment it’s a blast.

Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin’ this’ll be the day that I die
This’ll be the day that I die

I ate the american pie for dessert and felt like throwing it up,

i don’t have bulimia but i tried it when i was 14,

I couldn’t physically make myself throw up, it just didn’t happen.

I ate too many cookies, mini chocolate chip cookies and I had just lost some weight,

so i tried to throw up in the toilet.

I believe at that moment, the universe intervened and made sure that I could not do it.

I would have become a bulimic I think.

You dodge bullets in life.

I was a lonely teenage broncin’ buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died

I wanted to be a psychologist until my friend who was suicidal told me her problems.

Honestly, I can’t listen to people with the intensity needed by a therapist.

I couldn’t listen to her depths of misery.

Buddhists say life is suffering.

Did you write the book of love
And do you have faith in God above
If the Bible tells you so?
Do you believe in rock and roll?
Can music save your mortal soul?
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

I wrote a book no one’s read,

I do have faith…in something…in everything…

I don’t know when I became myself, or even if I am myself. Am I nina?

Who is nina? nina hides behind her computer and her words.

Behind her selfies there’s no self. She can talk a good game, but it’s a show sometimes.

I want to really talk sometimes. I want to tell you how broken I am. I have been abused by life.

I mean it knocked me around quite a bit. Can you relate?

Now I’m coming home. I only have one home.

I don’t think we have a soul inside us, I think we are inside a soul.

I think it is like a balloon all around us. I have decided to nest in my soul.

And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin’ this’ll be the day that I die
This’ll be the day that I die

I don’t want to die. I mean ever.

sometimes I don’t want to live forever either

isn’t there a place in-between?

not that i want to end it all. but i get tired of living every day.

I mean you get up in the morning and you have to live.

I only die in my sleep. Sleep is not death, just practice.

I had a dream…I have a dream…that one day people will all sit together,

I mean the whole fucking world will stop for one minute every day at the same time and breathe.

A moment of silence. So we can hear the universe talk. It doesn’t always get a voice.

I wonder what it will say?

Oh, and there we were all in one place
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again
So come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick
Jack Flash sat on a candlestick
‘Cause fire is the devil’s only friend

I dream…in color and…

sometimes i want to press the delete button on my past.

I maybe, I could cut and paste it so it reads better.

I almost said fuck you to a police officer once.

I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news
But she just smiled and turned away
I went down to the sacred store
Where I’d heard the music years before
But the man there said the music wouldn’t play

you can’t break pandora like you can break a juke box.

You can’t stop the internet. Even for a moment. So we can all breathe.

We are not people we are machines without pockets

We are flawed, flawed fakers

And in the streets, the children screamed
The lovers cried and the poets dreamed
But not a word was spoken
The church bells all were broken

I need to scream, but I have to schedule it. I don’t have time. I don’t have time to be me.

I have to be a robot in the rain

losing all it’s power.

You can’t turn me off, you can’t turn me on

I’m neither here, nor there.

Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin’ this’ll be the day that I die
This’ll be the day that I die

There was a bomb in the american car

that was really made in mexico

because we don’t like our own hands

our footprints are in the sands

our feet are standing but we are not

we sit, we wait, we sleep we dream

we are always talking in between

the lines are blurry our faces are fat

there is no worry, this is this, and that is that

there are people who can’t scream,

so I scream for them

And the three men I admire most
The Father, Son and the Holy Ghost
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died

My keyboard is a piano

I sing from here

I’m out of tune

there is not harmony

where are my socks?

These are the buildings,

These are the blogs.


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 October 17th, 2015  
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