Such Great Heights

Tonight I want to be Peter Parker.
I want to swing among the building tops...
Thinking...
Thinking...
Thinking...
I want to land on the top of a building and stare down at the mess of buildings and traffic and people and lights and feelings and lovers and friends and laughter and I want to watch time go by. I hope it moves slowly, because I'm tired of it speeding along in it's crazy franticness... Maybe people will look up and see me. If they do, I think I'll wave, just to show them that I am in the world, however removed my mind might be.

"They will see us waving from such great heights. 'Come down now,' they'll say but everything looks perfect from far away, 'come down now,' but we'll stay..."

That's The Postal Service. (Or, if you prefer, Iron and Wine covering The Postal Service). Brilliant poets, they are...

But I see a problem. Who is the other person in the "we"? Who will come swing with me from such great heights? I guess I haven't found someone yet. When I do, I hope it's someone that I can hold tight to... I do so hate fickle relationships, no matter how long they last.

I need a hug...

But since I can't have that, I'll have to settle with the Shins and my own dreams. Oh... and I can't forget Wilson.

I'm tired. And in need of help.