Dave Matthes Quotes

You're either gonna spend your life fucking pussy, or taking it to church.

We kissed and pressed up against each other, and I said to her "Ya know, my first kiss I ever had with anyone, it was with a boy, in the back of a school bus at night." Lotty stopped kissing me for a second.
"That's disgusting," she said.
"What? It's not like we had much choice in where we did it. Kinda had to sneak around in those days. Get it in when and where we could."
"No, I mean the fact that your first kiss was with a boy."
"What's wrong with that?"
"Boys are gross.

A man's ability to dream is the most sincere form of ambition he has in his arsenal, and the only true glimmer of one's self one has. And if one is to ever lose that ability, it's the same as losing one's self altogether. To reacquire this ability, to gain a new sense of 'self', one must first die ... only then can he be reborn, redefined, and ultimately rediscovered.

Being smart takes patience. Being wise takes pain. Being apathetic takes practice. Being in love takes everything ... away.

That's the beautiful thing about innocence; even monsters have a pocketful of childhood memories with which to seek comfort with.

I never had a childhood. Not like the rest of them anyway. I had a starting point from which I have never stopped running.

~Posters with torn edges hanging from rotten walls~

The doctor told me something once
she said
STOP DRINKING
I slapped her across the face with this
NO
I walked right out of that office
went right down to the hole
I told the bartender
WHISKEY, MOTHERFUCKER
he poured and he poured
and I slapped my money down on that bar
the man I had been driving around with
he just sort of sat there next to this hooker
she probably had something rotten
way down there between her legs
her eyes told of no soul
I emptied the bottle down my throat
and ordered some chips
the bartender told me
THEY'RE STALE
and I give him a
I DON'T FUCKIN' CARE,
GIVE ME SOMETHIN'
He slid me a ham sandwich dripping with cheap low-fat mayo and said
ENJOY
I went back to my room
and talked all night
so much conversation
it turned the toilet bowl pale

I didn't recognize it as such then, because I was only thirteen years old, but later I found it a bit ironic that my first time seeing a woman in all her form and glory and saggy drug-tainted tits, arrived at the same exact time as my first introduction to death.

Plans never go as planned, ever; that's just how life is. People spend way too much time dreaming about a future they should be having more nightmares warning them against. But that doesn't mean you should let those bad dreams scare you away; all those nightmares want is respect. If you give them that, they'll give you the space you need. Unless, of course, they're the type of nightmares that have an appetite, then you're fucked.

Confidence don't mean jack shit in the real world, sis," she once said. I feel myself finding the courage to trust those words more and more with every twist of the knife. Coincidentally, last Tuesday afternoon I was involuntarily exposed to the punch line of an old wise tale that goes something like: "There's beauty that can be found in everything." But why can't the insensitive cunt who said that ever find the courage to look in the mirror? Because poopycock, one might say.

In the hours waking,
when we're still all still,
and you can hear the floorboards creaking,
and you can feel the shades blow in,
the night we slept with,
we'll never kiss like that again.
Our lips, will sever,
our memories, will dissipate,
and our shadows will be swallowed by the sky.

So you mean to tell me you won't fuck anyone you don't share some kind of deep emotional connection with? What a sad, depressing, truly horrible life you must lead ...

Music is the love child birthed from the boundless freedom found in dreams and the rapturous opposition faced in life; for that, we should be so grateful for both the light and the dark.

What is true today may not be true ten years from now; there is more truth, more certainty in the inquiry "What if?" than in the definite "It is

Lovecraft says he knows about tentacles
but that motherfucker never bedded a girl from
West Chester
and survived
She was a toothache
that one
and she tasted like crack
the best thing about her
was if I was ever hungry
I could always make a meal out of whatever
was making rest at the corners of her mouth
I can't remember her name
as is the case with most of them
then again I can't remember
how many donuts I ate this morning
or how many beers I'll drink tonight,
tomorrow

Distance,
the dissonance insurmountable,
would be not the end,
but a magnet.
When fingertips kiss,
they imprint and cement something,
that cannot be disintegrated.
Time becomes a phantom,
the wind becomes an anchor,
and old dreams- blankets of warmth.
Lull with me, Lady,
there is no greater escape.
Love and war, even when buttered on toast,
still makes for the breakfast of champions.

Reaction time

Touch the underside of a penny you find
on the street
Doesn't feel any different unless you close your eyes
I can taste the copper in my mouth now
seeping from between my teeth
There's an explanation I'm sure
all this blood
it's from all the times I held the glass too close
And forgot to tip the dancer
A storm just passed
and like every other one that came before it
I was left unharmed
The dogs are all barking and the cats
hiding in the basement
And the sky is colored that bright yellow glow
makes it feel like you're wearing sunglasses
that you can't take off
Wherever you are now
it's not here
because I missed it
I missed the show
I missed the curtain call
And forever more
I am cursed
like a blanket without a body to keep warm

You don't have to go back to the way things were. Just go back to the point where you left off. Don't start over ... just keep going, but there's a right way of keeping going. And no one here is going to be angry at you for leaving. We all have to leave sometimes. And some of us never come back. But there's always a choice, even if you've already decided never to return. You can still come back from this. That is the only kind of faith that matters. Not in the world, not in ... God ... , not in our friendship ... just in yourself.

You know one day, you're going to look back on these days. And everyone you went to high school with will either be getting married to each other, shitting out kids, or dropping dead like flies," when she spoke, Miss Jenson sighed at the end of every few words; she must have been narrating her own thoughts she might have otherwise kept to herself, "and everything you never did, you'll never be able to even try.

The day I became a writer
it wasn't the day a whore paid me in sex
in exchange for one of my books
which happened often and more and more
as time went on
it wasn't the first time someone
actually paid for one of my books
which happens less and less
as time goes on
It was the day I realized
that everything is created by man
God, Satan, Judas, phobias, excrement, even death
even women
everything is created by man
So I said to myself
shit, let me make something
let me tape together some words
and sentences
and prose
and predicates
and the residual shit that sticks to my ass after I wipe
and compose a new kind of thing
But then I realized that others had discovered this
for themselves as well
And suddenly the world became a jungle
Where everyone eats each other alive
And shits out the same shit

Let me ask you this: How many days do you have left, if any, in the life you promised for yourself yesterday?

To all the boys, for when you become men: you'll leave women all throughout your life because they're holding you back, and even after she's gone she'll still weigh you down. To all the women: stay away from us men. We don't know anything about you, despite what we try to convince you of.

There just isn't enough cock in this world to be caught suckin' and be called anything but a slut for life. The cynic in me would call it a bad habit, but that'd make me a whore in denial and if there's one thing I am, it's an honest bitch. Then again, you don't get famous for being daddy's little angel, but you can easily fall into the Infamy Bracket by preaching a made-up Bible quote now and again. They say I'm shallow, but I've made a living out off diving off the deep end.

Life will hack off your head and shit down your neck every chance it gets. I've found that consuming drugs and booze, listening to music and always having an excuse in the best way to tip the scales.

People will drive by their high school ten years down the road, just so they can pretend that thinking "not much has changed" is actually true. When really, everything has changed. The air smells the same, but the roads have cracked more. The roads have cracked so much they now look like the skin on a crocodile's back. And all the fields, green in the summers, golden in the autumns, have all been paved over with new reasons to never come back.

There's folly in her stride
that's the rumor
justified by lies
I've seen her up close
beneath the sheets
and sometime during the summer
she was mine for a few sweet months in the fall
and parts of December

((( To get to the heart of this unsolvable equation, one must first become familiar with the physical, emotional, and immaterial makeup as to what constitutes both war and peace. )))

I found her looking through a window
the same window I'd been looking through
She smiled and her eyes never faltered
this folly was a crime

((( The very essence of war is destructive, though throughout the years utilized as a means of creating peace, such an equation might seem paradoxical to the untrained eye. Some might say using evil to defeat evil is counterproductive, and gives more meaning to the word "futile". Others, like Edmund Burke, would argue that "the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men and women to do nothing." )))

She had an identity I could identify with
something my fingertips could caress in the night

((( There is such a limitless landscape within the mind, no two minds are alike. And this is why as a race we will forever be at war with each other.
What constitutes peace is in the mind of the beholder. )))

Have you heard the argument?
This displacement of men and women
and women and men
the minds we all have

Blood Booze Bravery Cynical Daydreaming Death Deep End Denial Destiny Dreams

She once told me of a night that fumed with escapes and was filled with bedsides reeking of ecstasy; she told me the stars cast not judgments, but blessings, knowing full well the disastrous outcomes of the deeds they cradled with the strings of their young hearts. She'd inhaled the night itself, those around her doing the same, and so all become one. No disharmony. No discordance. Nothing to shatter the cause; nothing to unearth the beauty. So as we together ascended that front porch, allowing the glow behind the blown-out windows and the odious steams plunder us from through the cracks ... time forgot to distill us, and our steps became as silver as glass. I could no longer deny the boiling words of my blood: tonight would be the beginning of a very long road indeed.

Embrace all emotions: sadness, happiness, sorrow, hate, love, prejudice, fear; they are weapons against our greatest enemy: indifference.

Hemingway is overrated,
Twain is even more lost at sea,
And all truths point to the mouth of a woman,
Where both her whispers and her screams,
Are born.
Pour another glass,
Beer, wine, whiskey,
I don't care,
So long as its wisdom is sharp,
And it tells lies instead of promises.

Of course if you stare at the sky long enough you're bound to get dizzy eventually ... the key is harnessing that sense of displacement, never forgetting it, so as to enable one to employ it at will. Simply walking through life without a sense of physical, if not emotional, disembowelment, is not a life worth living.