You’re different, the same stainless steel. You or what I thought was you, knew me inside out. You were there every step of the way. I can’t forget the way you lit up, like a million different suns and exploded into life when it mattered. The funny thing is that I never really expected you to leave like that.
But you’ll be back again and I can pretend again. Such is the way of life.
Just dream about
Color fills our lives
Just dream about
Someone else tonight
Michael’s at that trafford place, of all dingy british back alleys, i’m gotta be up at 430 am on my 20th to run 21km and people just don’t keep the promises they make anymore. schuuweet.
Would have written something earlier, but like why blog when I can just update my facebook status yeah? at the same time, why update your facebook status on facebook when you can do so on twitter as well? And if you’re pissed, down in the dumps or just plain sad, why bother with elaborate laments and tear stained poetry, just post up on FML.com..where people can affirm that yes! your life is screwed! Lastly, why even go the whole nine yards and meet a girl, attract her as she attracts you, date, consummate the bliss one fine night with the waves crashing against the rocks outside your seaside villa, and well..just ask her ‘ can I tap that?’ off the bat, and post her response at www.canitapthat.com!
e-life is amazing. (likes this).
Oh yeah, nice neil gaiman (i’ve just finished The Wake. Gonna get Endless Nights and the Death miniseries once i’ve re-read everythin 5112491243 times) , 2005:
“In the meantime I signed lots of things, and have decided that the people of Singapore I’ve encountered so far are, on the whole, friendly, funny, smart, literate, culturally diverse, and extremely keen on making sure I’ve eaten. Eaten lots, and eaten well and eaten locally. (And incidentally, you have to try some of this. I’ve given you a bag of it for later.)”
and nice nights out in Singapore:
I think I fell in love with her, a little bit. Isn’t that dumb? But it was like I knew her. Like she was my oldest, dearest friend. The kind of person you can tell anything to, no matter how bad, and they’ll still love you, because they know you. I wanted to go with her. I wanted her to notice me. And then she stopped walking. Under the moon, she stopped. And looked at us. She looked at me. Maybe she was trying to tell me something; I don’t know. She probably didn’t even know I was there. But I’ll always love her. All my life.
People should lighten up a bit. It’s funny how we kill ourselves over the things that don’t even matter.
Lift your head and look out the window
Stay that way for the rest of the day and watch the time go
Listen! The birds sing! Listen! The bells ring!
All the living are dead, and the dead are all living
The war is over and we are beginning…
God it feels good to be back. Nice pristine white walls around here. And you, yes you, do look beautiful today.
I’ve got almost 5months left till the end. I’d say time flies, but we all know that’s a lie. Time doesn’t fly, it knocks you out cold and vanishes the moment you wake up groggily feeling abject loss . Oh yeah it steals your kidneys too.
My heart’s pretty much all set on leaving for America next year. It also rams itself against my chest periodically telling me to stay. Mom says she’ll definitely cry if I leave. Thanks Mom.
Question: Mass Comm or Journalism? One’s theoretical. One practical. Both fun things to do whilst finding myself in New York, Evanston, or some place where I can kick back, stare at the setting sun and write a song or two about people finding themselves in setting suns. Or California.
I’m reading Sandman now. No screw that, I’m forging an indigenous, almost congenital relationship with Neil Gaiman’s multiverse. It’s amazing. It’s the stuff Dreams are made of. I’m at vol. 5 and already I feel like I know these characters, images and themes so well. They’re like extensions of ma soul man, good Lord. Think the Sandman will always be a part of me, and us, till we hear the sound of her wings. (I was floored by that line, only bettered by ‘I am Hope’ *dies*)
I’m walking around in HMV. I close my eyes and pick a cd off the rack. I’ve found Stars, alongside The Dresden Dolls, Sigur Ros, Imogen Heap and the Manic Street Preachers. Maybe you’ll find love, God and everlasting happiness this way too. You make your own memories.
I discovered recently that my motto in life was to live life with no regrets, to be the guy everybody wanted to be, to be the one who was fwoahhhh* inspiring. We’ll see how this goes,starting with this new post marching to the strains of Dakota. I think i’m different from before. I think i might have something else to bring to the table. So take a look at me now.
*ask me. it’s profoundly simple.
WHERE BE DA HOES MANG! Not up in yo crib so brace yoself foo Ima gonna show u sumpin. The only way to get them fine azz bitties up in yo crib be if you gotz the monsta Cak. Ima hook a little g up with a sto that will send u a free bottle of boom pills so u can step yo game up foo. http://sizenew.com
Evidently my msn originates from the south side of the Bronx.
“One day, a man and a woman meet — two melancholic, lonely people. They like one another and secretly hope to join their lives together. All they need is the chance to be alone for a moment and say so. Finally one day they find themselves unobserved in a wood where they have come to gather mushrooms. Ill at ease, they are silent, knowing that the moment is upon them and they must not let it slip by. The silence has already lasted rather a long while when the woman suddenly, “involuntarily, reflexively,” starts to talk about mushrooms. Then silence again, and the man casts about for a way to declare himself, but instead of speaking of love, “on some unexpected impulse” he too talks about mushrooms. On the way home they go on discussing mushrooms, powerless and desperate, for never, they know it, never will they speak of love. Back at the house, the man tells himself that he did not declare his love because of the memory of his dead mistress, which he cannot betray. But we know perfectly well: It is a false excuse he invokes only to console himself. Console himself? Yes. Because we can resign ourselves to losing a love for a reason. We would never forgive ourselves for losing it for no reason at all.”
 | z on One More Night |
 | kentay on Manifesto |
 | geneve on Remembrance |
 | Roki on Manifesto |
 | z. on Manifesto |
