Ghosts

Oh, boy. This is where all the ghosts look in the window at me.

This is it. The window for ghosts. The place the ghosts look in when they want to spy. To Tom Peep. This is the window. This window in my bedroom.

Hey. High. Ho. This is the one.

The ghosts, they like to look in through this bedroom window when they all want to spy on me.

And they want to spy on me.

My life is quite interesting to ghosts, I say. My life is awfully, awfully interesting to ghosts.

Know why? Know why?

I don't know. That's just the thing. I don't know. I don't know why my life is so gosh darned interesting to ghosts, but it is. It just is.

I have, frankly, tried to make my life more boring to ghosts. I do all I can. I spend hours in front of the TV. I eat nothing but hunks of bread, and bits of cheese, and peanut butter. I sometimes play Katamari Damacy from sun-up to sun-down.

And yet, the ghosts, they stay and they watch and they won't leave my window.

I turn on my computer, check my email, check a blog, check my email, check another blog, check my email.

And yet, they watch.

I lie in bed all day Sunday. Every Sunday. I lie in bed and wait for The Simpsons to come on, and maybe then I get up. I lie in bed and listen to the radio all day Sunday. But they watch.

I'm trying. I'm really trying to bore the ghosts.

But nothing works.

They are watching me right now. Can't blog. Must be much much more boring.



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Love Battery were the Great American Shoegazer band.

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Les Thugs were something else. This video features a scene where they are running on a beach. Like The Monkees might. (Play loud.)