Yesterday I was blathering at Jordan about my lack of real progress on the revision. At one point, he said, "At least it's coming along."

And I was like, "Three sentences isn't really 'coming along' as 'being pulled by a choke chain.'"

"It's movement in a forward direction."

"It left nail gouges in the hardwood floor of my soul, though. How's that for emo?"

To which he said, "Very nice. I'm impressed. You should write songs."

And that unleashed the deluge of bad emo lyrics. Like:

I gave you my empty heart
It was all of mine to give
As much mine as the thunder is
Echoing through the space where
The empty heart is bleeding on your dresser
Touching does nothing for me
Can't you palpate my pain
I carved your name in the soles of my feet
Because you said I walked all over your feelings
You tried to pull me into the sunshine garden
But it left toenail gouges in the hardwood floors of my soul
And I got about as much gas mileage
As a rutebega.
I hate you mom.
Your love and shuttling to soccer games
Damaged me forever.

and

You Made Me Go To Bed Early and Ruined My Life

You told me I had potential
And to put down my guitar
That science was more important
Than playing my band's gigs
I was only sixteen
How could you be so cruel
To piss on my dreams
And take away my car
And tell me to be in bed by ten
Nobody's in bed by ten.
Nobody at home by ten
Why do you torture me?
And make me apply to college
When I should be a star.
You don't understand my pain
You never have.
Your minivan driving ways
Fill me with rage
I want to burn your Costco card
Like the way you burned my soul
Why do you hate me so much
To cast me into the world of corporations
To make me into a drone
And you won't even pay my Visa bill
Or buy me Cocoa Puffs.
I haven't gotten laid because
You made me go to bed by ten
When I was sixteen
And no, blowjobs don't count,
You Clinton voting whore.
I hate you.

And my personal favorite:
Paris Hilton's Emo
I wear my pain on my thong
Which I refuse to cover
Cover means hide.
And "that's hot"
Means there's a cancer
Devouring my essence
It's my mom's fault
For not telling me to go to school
And helping me make the scene
And my daddy
And his great uncle Nicky
He married Elizabeth Taylor
And look at how fat she is.
Fat like I want to be
My hunger feeds the media
And I don't have an ass.
You don't understand
I don't have an ass.
When I sit down,
My bones press down
It's perfect agony
Like all of my diamonds
Cutting into my glass skin
Or my dog
Eating my face
When I die alone
I'll dance on the table
Out of shame
And go out with guys
Who have the same name
And my eyes will burn
Like the eyes of devils
In weird green night vision
But I'll weep inside.
I cry inside.
That's hot.

Hee!

Yeah, we can all blame Jordan for giving this particular ball o' fun rolling.