creation, journal
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the likes of those of old crows

I spent most of today coding a little project and listening to old music. Both activities led to the other.

It’s in the dump for now, and you can try it out here. At the moment of writing I only have their ‘middle’ three albums and all of Folie a Deux, since adding songs to the library is boring and tedious and I do not work fast enough because of how easily I get distracted.

I justify this project as a ‘little tool’ that helps you search for song lyrics better. Yes, there is Google. But if Google was reliable enough then I would have stuck with it and not made this, right? The core features are pretty much there but not implemented good enough yet — since I have to learn and figure out how to. It lets you search all available albums, toggle some of them out, click on songs to view the full lyrics and highlight your search term within them. That’s it, and it’s only for Fall Out Boy — because sometimes some lyrics get stuck in my head and actually yeah I could just use Google but this would be faster and more efficient in case I suddenly remember a line, want to know the continuation of it, and paste it on my Twitter bio so I can act sentimental or pass Sporcle quizzes easier. (Speaking of which, I made one today too. God bless.)

I mostly look forward to fixing it up, making improvements, and looking at the code in utter disgust in a few weeks/months until it becomes a godlike search engine for emo lyrics.

The Piano Knows Something I Don’t Know” has been stuck in my head the whole day — which is strange since I never really cared much for the song until… today, when I realized that hey, I do care about it and it has brilliant lyricism. Today, it also dawned on me that the things I want to happen never probably will, even if they are the smallest of things as hearing my favorite songs live. I am condemned to dusty recordings and staring at glass panes for vinyls that will never be re-released — that kind of girl.

There’s nothing floating around my mind except the urgency to do more – even if it’s confinement to a chair, and creating endlessly. We are so fragile, but our works can be of permanence. At the moment, it’s just song lyrics, worries, self-doubt, meager self-proclaimed epiphanies that in a rational standpoint – would probably be degraded to thoughts resulting from a lack of sleep.

Let me be narcissistic for a while. You make me coffee-stained, ink on brinks and blinks. I know that I myself am a shadow, but that doesn’t mean I’m not better. Smile and offer them pity on the inside, smile in disgust at how ‘infallibly’ helpless you are. Text-book sociopath, prescription-ridden poet. But this is why the songs you hear are all from the broken hearts, and the success stories don’t come with a little bit of fight. I will get there. Hopefully farther than anyone else.

Tonight, the rain resigns to records and words that were never meant for it anyway.

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