pinned down by the dark.

it's a real rough time.
and i'm real tired of it.

overwhelmed & annoyed. so...

my little music shop.

is officially open!

http://www.nitashajacksonmusic.blogspot.com/

the scoop.

Pretty much all of the pieces are in place for me to get my album recorded… We’ve got the producer… a bit of a world-renowned amazing one, at that. I’m pretty certain of the location (london) and even the studio. I’ve got a lot of talented musicians all around me and I’ve got oceans of songs. All we need now, is the money to make it a reality. I know. I'm still being ever so cagey about details. And so we wait for the financial/business details to be sorted. It all looks quite favourable really, but still... these things make me sick to my tummy and anxious.

I need some serious encouragement and prayers and things like hugs and the crossing of fingers. (Proverbially though, because the cramping would be horrid.)

In the meantime, I'm working on making my songs available for purchase.
Stay tuned.

discovery. [where do the waves go?]

i've sailed the seas of well-meaning affection.
i have nearly drowned in infatuation.
but i have never been in love.
epic. discovery.

"...part of that is i've never met the right person. i almost need someone who overpowers me. i'd love to have a boyfriend who does his own thing and isn't relying on me. i've had boyfriends who have really tried to be understanding, but i have that nature of turning into a teacher and telling people what they need to be doing. that's the thing with someone as motivated as me. i'm attracted to the Jamies and Jacks, those men who know exactly what they're doing. One of these days, I'll find a single one." - Alison Mosshart

i love when someone else can just explain it simply.
sometimes it's nice just to see what you're feeling and/or trying to make sense of written down.
and that's precisely it.

love,
columbus

dear l'wren scott,

can you dress me up, please?

lost art.

I’ve made a mess of this silence
Taking the blame again
Like a cold war of violence
And the sadness is moving in
And I’m not interested in weapons
Just could we talk a little bit
Another silent treatment
And I don’t want to swallow it

I’m just trying to write you out
From under my skin
I’m just trying to get out
Of this place you’ve left me in
I’m just trying to sing you out
From the walls of my heart
I’m just trying to figure out
This lost art

when I think that I’ve forgotten
Your ghost is in my head
Another off the wall reason
I can’t let go of it
All the anxious drummers pounding
from beneath my chest
til you bring a resolution
I need to find some rest

I’m just trying to write you out
From under my skin
I’m just trying to get out
Of this place you’ve left me in
I’m just trying to sing you out
From the walls of my heart
I’m just trying to figure out
This lost art

Overcomplicating
What shouldn’t be so hard
A misunderstanding
Doesn’t need to leave us scarred
I have never loathed anything half as much as your silence
As fear and hate outracing
all the love I thought you meant

I’m just trying to write you out
From under my skin
I’m just trying to get out
Of this place you’ve left me in
I’m just trying to sing you out
From the walls of my heart
I’m just trying to figure out
This lost art

hey buster brown.

i tried on these shoes the other day

and my legs were all va-va-voom.
i felt like a dame.
i want them.
also saddle oxfords.
um, but that's another story.
this commercial break has been brought to you by steve madden.
thanks, steve. now, back to the poetry, lyrics and tunes.

flying ace.

Just an overcoat
And a room of smoke
An anger fillin a glass of bourbon
Give it a chance to explode
In your gaiter shoes
Leaving delible marks
Another’s adoration you’ll be ignoring
So why even start

Ready for take off
You’re in but
They’re not
Follow the exit signs
It’s just a waste of time

It’s just a sonic boom
That shakes the core of the room
A blank canvas of a broken mirror
That needs attending to
Another lame excuse
Makes the prettiest noose
You bestow upon your darling lover
It won’t be refused

Ready for take off
You’re in but
They’re not
Follow the exit signs
It’s just a waste of time

patterns of escape.

Dressed in patterns of escape
Shrouded in a time delay
Mended with a bit of tape
and painted to disguise the break

headed to the great unknown
some will stay and some say no
less afraid of what’s ahead
than what it takes to just let go

wait
waiting to hear that it’s over
wait
wait for the sound that this is done
wait
waiting to hear that it’s over
wait
til all of the waiting is done

came in through the fire escape
to lift the shadows from the place
beneath the blankets here am i
awake again awake tonight

speed it up to slow it down
and in these thoughts I seem to drown
each gentle wave upon my skin
my resolution wearing thin

wait
waiting to hear that it’s over
wait
wait for the sound that this is done
wait
waiting to hear that it’s over
wait
til all of the waiting is done

from tweetland.

some sweet day.

love's labour's lost.

In a world of cynicsm
Say the words
You’d be my man
And I would be your girl
When romance disappeared
My love ran deep
And I’ll sing it over you
In dreamless sleep

Everything you are, dear
into my hands
you fall
Everything I want is here
Into my hands
You fall

Tell me, darling
what it is you mean
Open up your silent lips
to speak
what once flooded banks
is frozen still
they won’t love you like I do
and never will

Everything I held dear
Out of my hands
It falls
Everything I wanted here
Out of my hands
It falls

come and dance with me, michael.

in progress

I have kissed unholy lips
And raised the stakes
And upped the pace
I have run toward the shore
And offered grace
Gave what it takes

I have walked inside your shoes
I took the bruise
To stand by you
I have waited for no return
The bridges fell
The bridges burned

I have cried a sea of tears
So you could sail
Away from here
I would bend where most would break
And taken all
A girl can take

And upon this lonely floor
I’ve drawn a line
Thrown wide the door
For all that love gave way to fear
And disappeared
But I’m still here

Bump that.

I am absurd sometimes.
I have moments of weakness when I contemplate sitting out for a while.
Cynicism gets the best of me.
Because I allow it.
"Can't nobody hold me down. Oh no. I got to keep on movin!"

i am nobody's little weasle.

i am the self proclaimed scrooge of valentine's day. with candy apple red nails, varying shades of pink eye-shadow, heart drawing obsessed maniac who's really a hopeless romantic at the core.

or maybe spring has just sprung, and i'm real into this whole romantic spring trend.

i don't think valentine's day is over-commercialized. what does that really even mean?! no no. you like romance, but hate when everyone in the world is celebrating it at the same time? kind of like when your favourite underground band gets all famous overnight. but really, what's wrong with that? in fact, i like the idea of everyone celebrating love and painting the town red and pink and talk of cupids and mythology and all the lace and candy (godiva. i meeeeean) and the manna that falls from heaven each year in victoria's secret stores. hearts on starbucks cups. valentine cards. flowers. it's like the thanksgiving parade kick-off for spring. it's the eve to beauty coming out of the barren chill of winter. and don't get me wrong, i love me some winter, but it's lovely. and valentine's day with your best friends or as a teacher is the bees knees. i mean, wonnnnderful.thing is, i like valentine's day, but being a spectator gets very boring. there's a club of lovers, and i'm not part of it. i am nobody's girl. there's all of this festive loveliness, and im a spectator. deeper still though, i say bah-humbug, because my belief in romantic love being something wonderful and tangible... is waning. and so i am finding the alternative... being some sort of girl version of a sherlock holmes or victorian bachelor gentleman sounds strangely alright. you know, just without the heroin use and cocaine addiction. how bout coffee being my vice with an occasional brandy alexander? yes. i think this will suffice.

i'm loved deeply by my family and my friends.
and i've never been anyone's valentine. i've never known a boy who really gave a toss about my heart. and i'm not very sure i will... nor that i want to, if marriage ends in 1 of 2 'D's. divorce or death.
and so, my dear "nieces and nephews."
let love prevail and my heart be siezed with courage.
and in the meantime, "you keep valentine's day in your way, and let me keep it in mine."

hooray for the blooms of spring and it's fever... that i'm finally allowing to blend with the greys and blacks of my wardrobe. WOOT!
and the beauty of my family and friends.
for you:

speak.say.spell.

i've never hated anything half as much as your silence.

crafty.

i feel a bit strange posting these considering some of my friends are ridiculously talented artists. nonetheless... here are some finished products of my snow days.

let's go outside and play!

and so we did.
Vanessa & I had a marvelous time, indeed.

unprovoked. [secret door.]

It’s the completely unrelated songs.
The ones that just sneak up on you.
Unprovoked.
Completely unprovoked and they remind you.
Sounds nothing like him.
Just some northern boy singing songs he doesn’t even like.
I can hear it go all quiet in my head…
like putting the headphones on and the music starts quietly…
pulls you in someplace else.
Any idea how many songs I’ve sung to him?
(I wonder who makes this boy sing like that…)
Well, you’ll only hear it for a second, because hear comes the distant sound of pretty hollowed eggshells cracking just beneath my coat.
Sometimes I wish this world was equipped with a secret door for each of us.
A place where we can just be excused for a few minutes…
Where we can slip away unnoticed…
Just for a little while.
A place where tears can flow. Where hearts can break and mend in solitude.
Close the door and release the stress for a moment.
As it is, my head hurts from wanting...
I walk around like everything is fine.
And sometimes it is.
Until days like this when my body reminds me that it isn’t fine at all.

pillow talk.

it's the stuff that dreams are made of.

couple things.

i miss arley. i miss sitting on the floor painting to coldplay or bjork.
nonetheless, let's get out the paints and canvas and maybe a sharpie.
last night involved scissors, paper and pillow talk.
i sent myself about 5 songs that i'd written on friday.
looks like i got a fever rush of creativity. and i am not arguing.

last night i had absurd dreams... involving being chased, sitting in a little fenced-in space in the middle of times square, and trying to fight someone and not being able to hit them hard enough. weird. the rest of the night, i was trying to get to sleep.
so this morning, i'm sleepy and worn out.
my tape adapter for my ipod decided to hit the bricks.
nme radio is not working.
it's chilly in the office.
my coffee was warmish.
but my co-worker just walked in with a candy bracelet for me.
happy monday, y'all.

i dont want you to go. i'll eat you up, i love you so!