She is Benediction

Here I go and I don't know why...

What if you could go back in time?

I'd choose never to have met you.

I wouldn't. I'd still choose to have met you.

I want to believe that.

It doesn't matter if you believe it. It's true. And I know it.

These are words. They're just words.

I don't know what to say to you.

Nothing. Say nothing.

Oh God...



I can't listen to you anymore.

I'm not saying anything.

No. You're not. And I can't listen.

I don't know what you mean when you talk like that.

I know. And that's the problem.

That's made up. Now you're doing it. It's just words.

But they mean something. The words.

Tell me.

Oh God...

Smells Like Teen Ukulele Spirit

I never really understood why people worshipped Nirvana.

Maybe eight ukuleles and tuxedos would help.


Or a swing arrangement by the "Havin' My Baby" guy (link for Gmail subscribers):


Or a banjo version from Patti Smith and Sam Shepherd: