"I No Longer Know How to Pray"

Well, to say things have reached a rough spot is too much of an understatement.

Here's the 411.

Adam and I are fighting. Again. Always. It's really agitating. Ahhhhhhh!

OK, I'm over the angst.

So I'm gonna blur through some details because I don't much feel like sharing them, but to make a long story really really short, so much for true love and delusions of grandeur.

Yeah. Everything is shit. I feel so alone even when I'm in a room full of people. It's not good.

I've hit a hard depression this week, and I think it's largely because I'm realizing how shitty things are.

Weird! I'm listening to my favorite Counting Crows song ever - "August and Everything After" - and it's on some kind of loop where it faded into itself. Craziness. And, no, I'm not on painkillers.

OK, so when I'm depressed (read - NOW), I listen to Counting Crows. So here's my favorite song lyrics.

"August and Everything After"

They’re wakin’ up Maria
‘cause everybody else has got some place to go
She makes a little motion with her head,
rolls over, and says she’s gonna sleep for a couple minutes more
I said I’m sorry to Maria
for all the cold-hearted things that I have done
I said I’m sorry by now at least once
to just about everyone

She says I’ve forgotten what I’m supposed to do today
And it slips my mind what I’m supposed to say
We’re getting older and older and older
and always a little further out of the way
You look into her eyes
and it’s more than your heart will allow
And August and everything after
you get a little less than you expected somehow

Well I stumbled into Washington Square
just as the sun began to rise
And I laid down on the lawn of the cathedral
and laid down and the shadow of St. Mary’s in the sky
And I’m just one of these late model children
waiting for the king
But there ain’t no sign of Elvis in San Francisco
it’s just me and I’m playin’ this rock and roll thing

She wants to be just like me
And I want every damn thing I can see
You know one day you’re Daddy’s little angel
The next day you’re everything he wanted you to be
They dress you up in white satin
and they give you your very own pair of wings
In August and everything after
I’m after everything
I said yeah yeah yeah yeah

Well you got your reservations
and you got your seven-million dollar home
You got the number of some girl in New York City
who’s always wide awake
so you never spend the night alone
You got a nasty little habit
of peekin’ down the shirts of all the little girls
as they pass you by
And I wonder when it all catches up to you
and they finally take you down–
are you gonna cry?

Well I already got my disease
So take your fuckin’ filthy hands off of me
Yeah well I hope you weren’t expecting to be crucified–
The best that they can do
is to hang you from the nearest tree
It’s midnight in San Francisco
and I’m waiting here for Jesus on my knees
And August and everything after
I want somebody else to bleed for me
I said yeah yeah yeah

They came down from North Dakota
with confidence in the military mind
And now everyone I know is turning showgirl
and dancing with their shirt off
in some Las Vegas hotel line

So I’m going’ to New York City
'Cause it got a little sleazy here for me
When I find myself alone, you know I'm never goin' home
To make the changes, the changes that we need
But I no longer know how to pray
I live in dog town and it’s a Dalmatian parade
And I, I change my spots over and over
but they never seem to fade away
I am the last remaining Indian
looking for the place where the buffalo roam
In August and everything after
man them buffalo ain’t never comin’ home
And I said in August and everything after
man them buffalo ain’t never comin’ home
I said oh yeah yeah yeah