I'm listening to: Belle and Sebastian - Funny Little Frog

Honey, lovin' you is the greatest thing
I get to be myself and I get to sing
I get to play at being irresponsible
I come home late and I love your soul
I never forget you in my prayers
I never have a bad thing to report

You're my picture on the wall
You're my vision in the hall
You're the one I'm talking to
When I get in from my work
You are my girl, and you don't even know it
I am living out the life of a poet
I am the jester in the ancient court
And you're the funny little frog in my throat

My eyesight's fading, my hearing's dim
I can't get insured for the state I'm in
I'm a danger to myself I've been starting fights
At the party at the club on a Saturday night
But I don't get disapproving from my girl
She gets all the highlights wrapped in pearls

You're my picture on the wall
You're my vision in the hall
You're the one I'm talking to
When I get in from my work
You are my girl, and you don't even know it
I am living out the life of a poet
I am the jester in the ancient court
And you're the funny little frog in my throat

I had a conversation with you at night
It's a little one sided but that's all right
I tell you in the kitchen about my day
You sit on the bed in the dark changing places
With the ghost that was there before you came
You've come to save my life again

I don't dare to touch your hand
I don't dare to think of you
In a physical way
And I don't know how you smell
You are the cover of my magazine
You're my fashion tip, a living museum
I'd pay to visit you on rainy Sundays
And maybe tell you all about it, someday

I'm listening to: Owl City - Vanilla Twilight

The stars lean down to kiss you
And I lie awake and miss you
Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere



I stand facing a sea of dazzling colour. Seemingly that of a projected hologram, tiles that blink and flash chartreuse, mustard, aqua, and a whole multitude of other hues extend their digital sublimity into the horizon to meet the bruised sky. They won't bear my weight - they aren't even material - and yet they can't not.

Standing a few feet away, she beckons to me. I can't tell how old she is. Childlike wonder and innocence juxtapose jarringly against an aged wisdom and complexity, and yet it's a perfectly coherent picture. Her countenance displays an enigmatic cocktail of emotions and exudes an unearthly vibrancy, which I find oddly comforting.

She tells me, "If you take but a single step, it'll bring you to the point of no return, but also that much closer to the other end. What you see is as real as you are, although it might not look like it; upon contact, the two different dimensions you and your landscape each occupy will overlap long enough for you to make your way. Think carefully: you have to cross to the other end eventually, but the journey won't be easy and there's no hurry to get started."

I'm confused; I think I already knew these things. Why is she telling me this?

"You can take along your helmet, baseball bat and teddybear. That's all they'll permit, and that's all you'll need. Try not to look back as you're going, because you won't see anything."

I hug them close to my chest and turn away from her to look at the skyline again. I can hardly believe what I'm about to do. I fill my lungs, feel them struggle against my ribcage, and extend my foot.

I'm listening to: Hole - Malibu

Like a watercolour painting, day and night blend seamlessly. Each hour is a ravenous pelican child that devours its precedent.
We're always cautiously treading the brink of an ontological revelation.




We used to leave the blue lights on and there was a beat
Ever since you have been gone, it’s all caffeine-free, faux punk fatigues
Said it all before: 
They try to kick it, their feet fall asleep 
Yet no harm done, no; 
None of them want to fight me

Combat baby, come back baby
Fight off the lethargy 
Don’t go quietly, combat baby
Said you would never give up easy, 
Combat baby, come back

I'm listening to: Westlife - My Girl

And here it is. Don't mind the poor quality, and watch the entire thing!




It's one of my favourite songs (original by The Temptations) and Westlife sounds pretty good too, but it's the CUTESY, SYNCHRONIZED choreography that's enough, I think, to turn straight guys gay. The charming Irish accent doesn't hurt either. What a great video; I'm so glad I happened to find it 'cause it made my day and I totally dig it! It'll be a long while before I stop grinning like an idiot everytime I watch this =D



Do you remember when we met?
That's the day I knew you were my pet
I wanna tell you how much I love you.

I'm listening to: The Juliana Theory - The Closest Thing

If a reasonable comparison can be made with the question about the tree falling in the forest, the answer would also be the same - that it doesn't.

8-67  67-34-12-45-56'23  23-34-89-56-67-89-7-56  90-89-89-34  12  6-90-78-90-34-34-45.  89'8  23-90  23-90-45-45-67  12-6-90-78-56  23-67-12-56'23  67-12-0-0-34-7-34-34,  12-7-34  34-5-34-7  8-90-45-34  23-90  45-90-45  7-90-56  6-34-89-7-56  12-6-90-34  56-90  90-45-45-34-45  12-7-67  4-90-8-45-90-45-56.  89  34-34-12-45-90-67  23-89-23-67  89  4-90-78-90-34  67-34-90-0  6-34-12-45  56-67-34  0-12-89-7  67-90-78  8-78-23-56  6-34  45-34-34-90-89-7-56. 0-90-34-12-23-34  67-12-7-56  89-7  56-67-34-45-34.

Are we straying too far towards the path heading straight for the purported telos?
The stars are bright tonight, and I am walking nowhere.


Just one anomalous instance, like a toppled domino at one end of its line, means the collapse of the entire preceding chain. Can't we do anything about the uneven dynamics? 89-56  78-78-23-56  89-23-7'56  45-12-89-45, for both object and observer alike. I don't need you, but-


Welcome to the infinite regression. 56-90-34  67-34-90-0  78-23.



Hey Lloyd, I'm ready to be heartbroken,
'Cause I can't see further than my own nose at this moment.