I'm listening to: Human League - Together in Electric Dreams

We part at the Tom Hansen complex; the endless and exhausting rehearsal of Expectation vs. Reality. 

I bid a very fond farewell to Blogger; I'll be moving to Tumblr (eventually - though I won't be posting here anymore) just because connectivity is so much easier there. In a sense, Across the Universe will survive since there is some kind of psychological continuity (haha), but it won't be the same, and just as well; because it ends along with the chapter it documents.

Hands down, this is the best day I can ever remember.

I'll always remember the sound of the stereo,
The dim of the soft lights,
The scent of your hair that you twirled in your fingers,
And the time on the clock when we realized it's so late,
And this walk that we shared together.

The streets were wet and the gate was locked, 

So I jumped it, and let you in.
And you stood at your door with your hands on my waist

And you kissed me like you meant it,
And I knew that you meant it.

I'm listening to: Keane - We Might As Well Be Strangers

Hello Mister,
You set my eyes on fire. 

I'm listening to: Plain White T's - Anything (Acoustic)

Swirling shades of glue - grey, blue
The Rottweiler vanishes along the corner
Bringing, leaving,
A meandering stench of iron that stretches
Its long trail across millenia of groveling and writhing in
The Dirt dyed colors of strange languages -
Those lost to la mer, that take its hand to spin and dance in frozen breezes.
Petty charms in a dollar-store snowglobe, which
Sparkle is caught and mirrored only in the light of an
Unopened eye.

I think I'm addicted to Salad Fingers.

"Do you not like my mouth-words?"

Help.

I'm listening to: A Rocket From the Moon - Forever and Always

I feel bad. I don't think it constitutes a failure to recognize one's own imperfections but, on the contrary, represents a veiled assertion of some compounded form thereof. Honestly. I thought about it and that's the furthest I got, but hell, it doesn't make it any less nauseating.

What it is to be up against the wall.

The observer has a tough job. Both desire and its antithetic manifestation, born of the same pernicious spawn; - how do they not fight each other to death and kill their bearer in the process?

Hello, I haven't seen you in awhile. I'm sorry I ever decided to throw you away! You looked much better in real life too. I miss you!

I'm listening to: Lucie Silvas - Breathe In

"Please get out. I'm sorry, I'm sick of your face, even more than the stupid things we do and talk about all the time." 






Say hi to Frank Bunny. The Manipulated Dead are space-time-travelers we want never to meet. They don't even make logical sense; the possibility of their existence is scary enough on its own account. Frank Bunny (not Frank) symbolizes the engendering of a fusion between fragmented universes and the anomalous, almost paradoxical nature of such an event, yet his Purpose for being is never veritably unmasked. He's also real even if he isn't. We don't know exactly what he is, but he is creepy - for more reasons than we'd care to uncover.



Don't analyse, don't analyse
Don't go that way
Don't lead that way
That would paralyse your evolution.

I'm listening to: The Temper Trap - Sweet Disposition

Is it the archetype? 

Or the distinct manifestation?



It huddles in the littlest corners and thinks nobody knows, just because it doesn't look anyone else in the eye. But it turns up all over the place anyway, taking on the strangest forms. How do you stop staring? 






So stay there
Because I'll be coming over

And while our blood's still young
It's so young; it runs

And we won't stop until it's over
Won't stop to surrender

I'm listening to: The Format - The First Single (You Know Me)

What's the point in going 'round when it's a straight line, baby, a straight, straight line?





IT'S BEEN SIX YEARS SINCE I LAST HEARD THIS AND I'M IN LOVE ALL OVER AGAIN!

It's the kind of genius indie music births once in awhile (quite a long while ago to be exact); the infectious beat and melody against old-school emo lyrics are a killer combination, and the form/structure of the song is perfect (like having a double-scoop ice cream cone with toppings, not a measly naked single scoop or a nausea-inducing swimming pool of a giant mutant sundae). The energy sends your head spinning before it winds down to a lovely end - and your head's still spinning and you can't stop listening to it over and over again for the same sugar rush. This is really good stuff worth the rediscovery, no thanks to those apocalyptic software crashes.