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You start the day at 2 in the afternoon, have lunch at around 3 p.m., catch up on some more sleep at 5 and wake up at 8 in the evening and have dinner at 9, watch a little TV...Daredevil was on, then sleep at 11 p.m.; one of the weirdest days for me, short-lived, disorienting, it was like living in a time-warp, like in Twilight Zone, where things seemed to be askew.

Sunday was just weird...like a good dream gone awry.

Saturday was a topsy turvy ride, a day wrought in frantic pace, people came and went, the food was enough, and by enough I meant no seconds but it didn't matter. The drinking began slow, like a trian trudging and then it went from a slow crawl to break-neck speeds...it was a trainwreck about to happen, I was wasted...everyone was.

I just had to quit at the 5 a.m. mark.

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I've been absent from this blog for days, I have been busy lately.

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People feel that they should put people down for a reason. They think it's just the way things are, the way things should be...self absorbed people, who only love themselves, believe that they are above everyone else, better and are far too good for the likes of us.

People who make themselves feel good at the expense of other peoples' feelings. Self-righteous and concieted, the vain and the proud. The high and mighty.

You see them everyday.

You hear them everyday.

You can even feel them everyday...around, underneath, above you.

It's like a plague, an airborne disease.

There's no escaping them...try as hard as you might, you get the feeling you're stuck with them - forever.

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Ronald's log, stardate Friday, 6th of August...I am feeling down, space is cold, it's freezing, my ass fell asleep a few times. I am feeling weird, looking for answers in the blinking lights and the monotonous droning of machinery and the gentle tapping of keyboards...but in space, no one can hear your screams...luckily this isn't space, and no one's screaming.

Not yet.

We talked about hope, losing it and finding it in the strangest circumstances. Finding hope when we least expect it to be there...finding it from less likely people. Hope is what makes us humans, we lose hope and we might as well crawl to our graves. We hope, We sometimes lose faith, but hope is eternal...we sometimes feel like giving up, hope is a seed you plant, it grows on you, in other people. We sometimes feel lost and abandoned, but in the many dissapointments that we have been through, we still hope...hope that we can find answers, answers to questions we sometimes are afraid to ask.

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New colors...same shitty layout...but it feels a lot like Hatelife, how I miss Hatelife...sometimes.

Well, it's another weekend, I won't be at work tomorrow...I'll be on leave, and so with that I wish all of you a great weekend.

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You need an escape, you need to get away from it all at a certain point in your life, a time to find yourself in the midst of the frantic pace and the madness that consumes us all in our struggle to carve a niche in this so called life. A hiatus, a sabbatical, a detour of sorts from the uncertain roads and highways stretched out before us.

More on this on later posts.

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The sovereignty you have over your work will inspire far more people than the actual content ever will. How your own sovereignty inspires other people to find their own sovereignty, their own sense of freedom and possibility, will change the world far more than the the work's objective merits ever will.

Your idea doesn't have to be big. It just has to be yours alone. The more the idea is yours alone, the more freedom you have to do something really amazing.

The more amazing, the more people will click with your idea. The more people click with your idea, the more it will change the world.

That's what doodling on business cards taught me.



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> from www.gapingvoid.com

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There are things on this earth that defy comprehension, things that make us scratch parts of our anatomy that's not itching. Things beyond our grasp, things that we can never find answers, meaning or closure, doors left opened, unfinished business and whatnot. We find ourselves caught up in the drama, swept by the undercurrent and washed in the shores of disbelief, hung to dry, losing faith we curse and rant, we shake our fists and scream, spraying spittle and exhaust ourselves, draining what little hope we have left, channeling hate and aggression, loathing and abhorrence to the person/persons responsible. In the end, we feel battered, defeated and lost. We hang our heads, like a shamed prizefighter, a pugilist fighting a lost cause, we wait for the towel to be thrown in, but we look and no one's willing to toss it in the ring...so we fight, bloodied and bruised, we dance and dodge, we jab, we fall but the strange thing is...we get back up again. There in lies the essence of what it is to be truly human, to get up when no one least expects us to do so, to fight a battle where everyone expects us to lose. To defy odds and throw caution to the wind, to stand and fall, to dust ourselves and stand up again.

Letting go is not the end of things, it's undeniably hard to leave someone or some place close to your heart, a place you spent most of your time, a place where you laughed, cried, matured, felt the pain of being left behind, a place where you found love in the most unexpected of places and in the shortest amount of time, we couldn't even believe it happened. You feel like you lost a limb, the feeling of someone, taking a huge chunk of your heart, the state of utter dejection and betrayal, spinning thoughts so malevolent in your head, you would think bile coursed through your veins. The desire to do things with so much deep-seated hate, you could swear you were the devil incarnate. I cannot blame you, I can only try, in my limited capacity to understand what is going through your mind, I know I do not have the right to say things of which I have the faintest of clues...I have not felt or experienced these things, and heaven forbid i'd be in the recieving end of such a fate as yours. I do not know how you feel, so I will not speak, I will not say a word, but you can take my hand, in times when you feel the lowest, take my hand, squeeze it if you like, you're used to doing that when you're
scared. It will be alright, I won't mind.

Maybe this is just a beginning of things for all of us? A friend once qouted Neitzsche, " One must have chaos within to give birth to a dancing star". I have kept those words in my heart, and I hope you will too. Life can be so cruel and so can people, unfortunately it's in our nature to hurt others, wether we mean it or not, we sometimes do things that cause so much grief.

Life can be so uncertain, unpredictable, like a dark stretch of lonely highway. Nothing is fixed, nothing is constant except death and taxes. They say change is always inevitable, we can only try and brace ourselves against the winds that might sweep our way, the waves may crash, and wash all that we have worked so hard for, time may erode all that we hold dear. All things can be disputed over, everything could be torn down, walls crumble, paint peels, corrosion and neglect can destroy all that which we consider sacred. Memories on the other hand stand firm, it has deep roots, sturdy foundations in our hearts...nothing can take that away. In the end we can look back and say that it was for the better. Wherever life may take us, in the end it will all make sense, somehow.

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In the end, we'll still be here.

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Scared, out of your wits scared, scared shitless, acting like a scaredy cat, yellow, chicken...tender euphemisms, all boiling down to one meaning...coward. People get scared, I do...at one point in time in our lives, we feel frightened, we are put under the gun so to speak. We can't seem to take the first step, take the plunge, inhibitions clamp us down, insecurities like remoras to a shark, they cling to us in a never ending cycle of "what ifs", fear...we fear that which we do not understand, we are afraid of the uncertainty that stares us in the eye, we are horrified by the vagueness of it all breathing down our necks. We are afraid because we simply do not want to face the future without definitive answers. We retreat at the first sign of instability, we cower in our little shells at the hint of a bleak and often hazy prospect. I don't want to live in a world where everything is set, at a predetermined path, where everything is right there in front of you...my spirit yearns for uncertainty, not knowing where life would lead me in the next 5 years or the next 5 hours, it doesn't matter...I want to know how it feels to be alive again. We are too sheltered sometimes, settled in our 9-5 drudgery, we flock to ATM's on payday like someone pushes buttons behind our heads to make us move...it seems too automatic, too robotic to say the least.

Fear is a touchy subject, people often avoid talking about their disquietude for dread of exposing their weaknesses. People act brave to the point of looking cartoonish, a caricature of their wretched selves. We are guilty of that, we do that to tell ourselves, "everything is cool, everything is what it is supposed to be". We construct walls, facades and barriers, only to deconstruct and dismantle our very souls in the process.

We live in fear, wether we like to admit it or not...we do. Anxieties are as common and as routine in our lives as one would like to acknowledge. It's debilitating, paralyzing and alienating that we sometimes stop functioning as normal human beings. We are living in complacent times. Pampered, the future much preferred in a silver platter by some. We forget the meaning of the word risk and adventure, they have been rendered obsolete by a majority who are content to sit and watch the world go by.

It's a scary thought.

I must stop now, I am sounding calculatedly maudlin...

I'm afraid i might give the impression that I am too sentimental for my own good.

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As the psychedelic 60's gave way to hippie backlash and high ambitions, one thing was clear: There was something damn funny about peace, love and understanding. Shaking off naturalism, daisy chains and acid tabs came easier than expected, and what resulted was a paradox of both striking diversity and remarkable coherence: From high-concept prog-nerds and high-octane guitar solo to high-heeled glam-rockers and high-ass punks, the 70s saw the rise and dominance of the album-as-unified-statement. Over three days, Pitchfork now takes the opportunity to present this list of its favorite albums of that decade.

read on for more >>

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:: from www.pitchforkmedia.com


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[img:348928]

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More Grim Reaper madness at off the mark...hehe.

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3 blog posts in a single afternoon! I'm making up for lost time, ehe he.

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American Gothic by Grant Wood

Grant Wood (1891-1942) adopted the precise realism of 15th-century northern European artists, but his native Iowa provided the artist with his subject matter.
American Gothic depicts a farmer and his spinster daughter posing before their house, whose gabled window and tracery, in the American Gothic style, inspired the painting's title.
In fact, the models were the painter's sister and their dentist. Wood was accused of creating in this work a satire on the intolerance and rigidity that the insular nature of rural life can produce; he denied the accusation. American Gothic is an image that epitomizes the Puritan ethic and virtues that he believed dignified the Midwestern character.

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The other one is from evilpundit.com, it's much Gothier I think hehe.

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[img:349030]
[img:349031]

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Soemtimes, when I'm alone with my thoughts, stuck in traffic, waiting for Kim at Ayala, passing time watching people go by and wondering what the stories might be behind these random faces, I think of words and equate them to these anonymous souls...make stories, organize words, ponder and muse, whimsically I muse at what they are thinking, what they might say, if by chance I would come up to them, ask them the most spontaneous, profound or inane questions I could come up with at the time, wonder and in awe I conjure landscapes with words, I paint with adjectives, splash some similes and daub a generous amount of metaphors, and then I get to thinking...I might be in the wrong business.

At work, when the load comes down to a slow trickle, people busy themselves surfing the net for art and everything that has to do with design, they occupy themselves with their GFXArtist, Deviantart, they whip out their Genius Graphic pens or wrestle with the mouse and doodle, sketch or churn one to three hour masterpieces in Photoshop, Illustrator or whatever exites their fancy at the precise moment the creative bug bites them, and at times I can't help but feel small, I am in reverence to these pixel pundits. I am supposed to be an art school graduate, I have adequate skills, let's just say adequate for the moment, I can draw there's no question about that...but as I have mentioned, I might be in the wrong business.

You can always find me, hunched in front of the monitor, staring at my blog, or reading other blogs. I have been in a torrid love affair with the written word since oh I can't even remember. I am more comfortable describing everyday scenes than rendering them, I visualize more effectively with words than I can with my brush or pencil. I am not falling out of love with art, don't get me wrong, I still draw, I dabble with Photoshop, if you would call my attempts at drawing in Photoshop "art". I can't even trace back to when this started...this so called "love affair". Writing words make me more coherent as a person, I am not a really good conversationalist, it is somehow the glue that keeps me from falling apart, you could say that writing has saved my soul from depression and an inevitable downward spiral to a darker place. It has made me exorcise inner demons dormant for so many years, I didn't even know were there.

So here I am, writing, blogging...pouring my heart and soul in between the lines and soliloquies, I know some may be pointless drivel, fodder for people to peruse over and dismiss as a man's futile attempt at writing. But in all sincerity this is who I am. No sugar-coating, it's as honest as it gets...a former colleague once said that he finds my writing to be brutally honest, I don't know about the "brutal" part...but I know it's honest, it's my life's blood in these words, my soul in every punctuation, my spirit lives and breathes in each line and my heart beats in unison with every pounding of the keys.

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Have you ever wanted to send someone "pee-mail"?

Well, here's your chance...http://www.pee-mail.com/

hehe

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Remember when your parents used to tell you to
"always eat your peas"? Aren't you glad you don't
always listen to them? hehe

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> Paul Hargrave - Ringling School Portfolio

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I wonder what I'll name him, hehe.

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They put up the sign last night.

It all begins here.

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Inebriation

1 : to exhilarate or stupefy as if by liquor
2 : to make drunk

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Friday evenings are usually spent with my officemates, getting, well...inebriated. It has become a ritual. So there I was with a bunch of people I spend a good 8 hours or so everyday...except Sundays. Friday night's session started to look like every other weekend night out with them, but not this particular Friday. There was Amuer...Amuerfina...with the brooding temperament, she with the punk rock-riot gurl attitude, I was looking forward to this encounter, stories flew around of how on previous nights where I was not present that she provided these erstwhile boring drinking sprees with life and drama replete with tears. I'm not sure if these stories were true or not, so the only way to find out was to go. And she didn't disappoint folks...she provided life alright, no tears this time though. I was amazed and in awe. She was a dynamo! She talked and laughed her heart out, I don't know about the inner workings of her alcohol tolerance level but I think she didn't reach critical levels that night, alhough it seemed close. She didn't completely spill the beans in a drunken fit, she didn't totally come clean, a few more bottles and maybe it would have been a different story but she was almost there, she was on the brink...I think? There will be other
times, hehe. She seems filled with angst, too much angst which was completely understandable, I was her age once, and I know the feeling. Her self-deprecating tales of how she has not found the right guy yet, though tragic in some ways seemed cute...I too felt that way once, and I totally understood. Taking jabs at Ger-Ger, talking about blogs, talking...playing spin the bottle, truth or dare, some more talking, taking more potshots at Gerald. The night seemed hers, it was her show, Cup and Saucer was her stage...the stars were her witnesses and I an adoring fan, hehe.

Looking at her, and all the others, Quickie Chickie, Annamanson or Brackishdoll or whatever monicker she's going by now, Sultan/Datu/Salip/ Monsignor Rap-Rap, Greza and that kid named Ger-Ger and the others who were not there but were present in spirit made me a believer once again...in friendship. I have known them for about 3 months now, and it seems that I have known these people longer than that. People often ask me "why do you drink?", and I would often retort, without batting an eyelash, "it's the company". Sharing a single glass, sharing an experience the uninitiated would never understand; drinking is not just about getting shit-faced and getting piss-drunk for no reason, more often than not, it's about forging bonds, it's a good way to know people, egos left at the doorstep, stripped of inhibitions, all apprehensions comfortably numbed by alcohol, it's a good way, maybe for working stiffs like us...the only way to let loose and just find comfort in the idea that you are not alone, that there are people who share your views, your aches and yearnings, your angst...I have been drinking for so long, I lost count of the years, and I have lost touch of the people that have come and gone. I had profound experiences and some deplorable, rather forgetful moments...chalk this one up to those profound ones.

Some may find it shallow to find profundity in all of this, but that's just me talking. Some may not and will never comprehend what I am talking about, but trust me...spend a night, get intoxicated with alcohol and the mysteries of life, strike up a conversation or two with these fine people and I assure you, they won't leave a bad taste in your mouth or give you a whale of a hang-over in the morning.

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Is there an emoticon for what I am feeling right now?

I don't think so.

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Am I fast becoming a commodity?



"I drew this one on the train to work the other day. "Commodification" is a subject that interests me. Why it happens, how it happens etc.

I do know it's happening to a LOT of people's careers, far too quickly for their liking. And a lot of people don't know what the hell to do about it. They just assumed that once they got to a certain rung in the ladder they'd be able to coast for the rest of their lives. Apparently not."

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> from www.gapingvoid.com


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One year seven months...has it been a year and seven months?

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CHANGE (in the house of flies)
Deftones

I watched you change
Into a fly
I looked away
You were on fire

I watched a change in you
It's like you never had wings
Now you feel so alive
I've watched you change

I took you home
Set you on the glass
I pulled off your wings
Then I laughed

I watched a change in you
It's like you never had wings
Now you feel so alive
I've watched you change

It's like you never had wings...
ahh-ah-aaah (6x)

I look at the cross
Then I look away
Give you the gun
Blow me away

I watched a change in you
It's like you never had wings
Now you feel so alive
I've watched you change
And you feel alive
You feel alive (2x)
I've watched you change

It's like you never had wings...
ahh-ah-aaah (6x)
You change (3x)
...I'm over...


> from www.deftonesworld.com

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We change, sometimes for the better...other times we take a turn for the worse. Change is good, change is essential. But if we change just to please someone, we often come up short. We could never live up to standards or measure up, in someone's eyes it will always be half-assed.

And then you would be lying to yourself.

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Artworks by Steve Sack, editorial cartoonist for the Minneapolis Star Tribune.

See more of his works at Cagle and the Steve Sack gallery

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Some people can't leave others alone...am I the only one on this opinion?
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Today sucks, it sucks so much it could suck the chrome off a car bumper...suckity suck suck...after lunch though, it will be a totally different story. I don't have anything to do yet. I'm bored out of my wits, I'm floating and I am distraught, in turmoil, fuck religion, fuck the economy, fuck the government, screw the egotistical maniacs that sorround me in my every waking hour, I am livid, I am pissed...about what? I can't put my finger on it yet, it's too much pink and red, it's too damn bright, it's blinding, giving me migraines I didn't have before, it's the light circumnavigating the oceans and waterways like polar bears in heat. It's the power, too much or too little of it, it's the dust in my heels, the bag of trash in my room, festering and marinating in it's filth and the world's bowels are spiral and colored orange-apple-red...it's the lazy afternoons, Sundays and everything in between. It's the drugs, the needles, addled by the humidity, riddled with bullets, suffering from rickets, the noise amid the hate, it's the dispatchers trying to weasel their way through drivers' hard earned money, it's the traffic, the way people chew with their mouths open, it's the ozone, it's the planets tilting, polar ice caps melting and the denudation of my cousin's once full set of hair, he want's to use that horse shampoo...what has this world come to? I don't believe in guns, never have and never will, the gentle gaze of a mother's eyes would be enough and the quiet, steadfast love of a father would be my blanket, my armor and my sword, to fend demons in and around me... I have held your hand, it has been so long, it still burns, and the evening is still, the shadows dance in my dreams like the flickering light of a candle, the night would say her hellos and I sing her praises. I am disoriented, making faces at the sun, I am slowly falling in love with the rain...I can't stand the light. I am in awe, inspired and at the same time too passive to lift a finger; the room is cold and my heart is frozen, I am negative, I am an electron molecule charged with negative electricity and discharging angst, in my four walled world of self-deprecating and loathing existence...in my days of silence. In days long and lurid. Had lunch it was uneventful to the point of being tepid. Dinosaurs dwell in your pants, they wreak havoc and disturb the balance between right and wrong, black and white, there are no gray areas, the vague distinction between what you know and what you believe as gospel truth is as murky as the rivers of time, the sewers where man's disdain overflows in your cup, and you take the plunge, you swim with the notion that you are untouchable and in a sense...God. Where is your god? And demigods and false idols have raped your mind with so much filth you can't distinguish anymore where everyting ends and bullshit begins. It suffocates, it distends into some form of malady, the malaise is just too overwhelming as you sit and the torpor takes over, shoplifters make the most of the day, in the drugstores we find solace, in malls we find the meaning of what it is to be alive, in school we die a thousand deaths and are resurrected in the dark alleys and desolate highways...only to be lost again.

When will we learn to ask for directions?

When it's all too late?

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"Piccasso was a terrible colorist. Turner couldn't paint human beings worth a damn. Saul Steinberg's formal drafting skills were appalling. Henry Miller was a wildly uneven writer. Bob Dylan can't sing or play guitar.

But that didn't stop them, right?

So I guess the next question is, "Why not?"

I have no idea. Why should it?"

.....

Nice piece of advice.



> from www.gapingvoid.com


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What the fuck? I say...what the fuck?!

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> from davezilla.com

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Danger! Engrish is contained generously.




Reportedly taken from a Fist of the North Star 'Violence Action Figure'



Would you like flies with that? (Taken from a McDonald's play set)



For when your mind is hopelessly lost in the gutter...


> from engrish.com

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it's that time again...in quiet anticipation. On edge...my fingernails are all gnarled and beat from biting...

I won't elaborate...that's all I can tell you...for now.

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Hehe...fucking bloggers! it's cute...I think? Or is it just the lack of sleep?

> from gapingvoid.com

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I'm still at the office, we're supposed to work half days on Sturdays...backlogs...oh well...gots to go home...I'm tired.

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I haven't been blogging for quite some time now. We're catching up on backlogs in the office and we're still not out of the woods so to speak. The previous week has been really wierd, it's hard to describe, the only thing I can think of is Twilight Zone...I felt or I still feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone.

Things just don't feel right anymore.

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Highlight of the week...I got to download all the songs from Dave Grohl's new band PROBOT!

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Metal is back!

Probot, Dave Grohl pays homage to his metal roots...read more about them at www.probotmusic.com

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If I am to stay and live in fear as a compromise to sentimental value...then fuck it.

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I am not bending over backwards just so people can fuck me up and walk all over me, I wasn't born yesterday, my parents taught me better. If I live in constant fear in the comfort of my own home, then it's not worth calling it home at all. Home...unfortunate that the place is starting to feel like the opposite.

Sorry to those who may be offended, but that's just my honest opinion to the matter.

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I have been running, in circles, sideways, diagonally and I have been running to find sanity in all the madness. I think more clearly in motion, nothing but the open road, a track and nothing but the pounding of my heart and the steady rhythm of my footsteps...I run to stay alive. I am running, in my head I am chasing something, setting my perimeters, setting them straight. I talk and the wind is my listening ear, I am in communion with the world, as it passes by, and the blurred edges come clear and I can see, vividly I can distinguish...anything and everything. I have answers, I have questions and I can come up with anything, in a second...they say you can live a lifetime in a single second, as I run I have lived for an eternity with eons to spare.

- - -

If I could spend more time with you, you know I would. I have no qualms of staying longer. I hope your eye will feel better, I know the eyesight might not return to what it used to be, at least it won't worsen to the point of blindness. It was good seeing you over the weekend, you looked...happy. I know you are, but you looked much happier, if I could spend more time with you, the both of you I would...weekends are not just enough, but I'm still here, I'll be around...I'll always be here, just as you have been there for me. I may not say this often, but you guys mean the world to me.

See you next Saturday.

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Jesus loves that Black Metal shit! hehe

> from metalstorm.ee

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> from misprintedtype.com

- - -

Frantic swells of seething apathy and paranoia in a jar...it has gone too far. It has been a strange and surreal ride, the clock is dripping wet and the air is thick and we can walk on water, miracles are hard to come by. In a moment, everything could be lost, in a flick of a wrist a snap of the fingers, without batting an eyelash, in a drop of a hat, everything could be lost...but think of what lies ahead, think of what you'll gain.

All hope is not lost, at times it may seem that way.

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"through me you enter into the city of woes
through me you enter into eternal pain,
through me you enter the population of loss.
. . .
abandon all hope, you who enter here."

Dante's Inferno

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...

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I have this certain facination with The Devil, it has always been there since I could remember...how once a mighty angel, now fallen from God's grace and thrown to the fiery bowels of Hell, collector of damned souls, tormentor of the proud and lustful. The embodiment of evil, Satan, The Prince of Darkness, Beelzebub, Lucifer, Mephistopheles, The Beast, The Serpent, Diablo or whichever way you call him.

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If we only had one of these in the office these days...

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She asked me if I could wake her up early in the morning, when I get up to get ready for work. I asked her "Why?", she said she has to do some tests. So I went to bed, set my alarm, and then went to sleep, I had a long day, I was tired so I slept as soon as my head touched the soft pillow, nothing was out of the ordinary, at least for me...there was something that was swirling in my mind for the past few days though, but I wasn't to sure yet so I just paid little attention to it.

Around 6 a.m. she got up, I was still too sleepy to see what she was doing that early in the morning, so the logical thing for me to do was go back to sleep, and besides, she asked me to wake her up when I get up...that's still a good hour and a half away so I sneaked in a few more hours of sleep. After a few minutes, she went back to bed again, I asked her what's going on, and she said it's nothing...her answer was negative, it had that same ring, the same tone of voice I have been too familiar with for a good 8 months. I felt bad, I asked her is she alright, she just nodded, mumbled a few inaudible words and went back to sleep. Wih that, I went back to sleep, but I had a hard time...there was something wrong, something amiss it was the same old feeling, all over again, it was like waking from a bad dream, only to find out everything is and will always be...a bad dream.

Time came when i had to get up for work, I noticed the device on the table, so I examined the package and looked at the instructions...you had a choice, 2 visible pink horizontal lines, or one visible pink one above and a faint pink line directly bellow it. So I opened the pack, got the slender, white thing out of it's packaging and examined it, and I looked at the instructions...it had 1 dark line, and one faint line below...under the diagram was the word, "positive"...hmmm, I thought to myself as my OCD kicked in and I re-examined that thing 4 or 5 times more, each time looking at the white plastic thing and the instructions, and the word below it...positive.

Positive...I can't wipe the smile off of my face.

I'm going to be a father.

At least some good news amidst all the madness.


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It still feels weird.

In some ways, at heart and at times in mind, I'm still a child...and in a few months, I'll have one of my own.

It's strange.

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Never do anything you'll be ashamed of later in life.

Never do anything you'll regret later in your life.

Never act first and think later.

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Burst the bubble, took away the thrill...took away the joy and then sucked the life away, there are two sides to a story...find what you think is yours, and stick with it.

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It's such a shame...

> from cagle.slate.msn.com


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I am entwined,
in a game in a cycle in a whirlpool
a sea, and my sails are all wrought in rags, tattered and woeful
in the face of the wind, I flounder...I am lost.

I will see a light, I know.

In the end, there is always a light, to shine

down, on all

so they might see, the banality.
in the falling of leaves, I may have to depart,

and make way for Spring.

for her to come, in days of confusion., she is my bearer of light

my refuge. In the night's cold stare, in my waking hour
in sleepless nights, I look to her, and she washes away

pain.

I look to the sea, for I am from her, she gave birth to me,
giver of life, loving arms to hold me in my darkest days.
If all will be lost, I will return to her, in flesh or in ashes

I will go back.

Until all may pass, we will endure, suffer and at times, we will laugh.
We will think of a tomorrow that today seems to be just an illusion,
we will smile, and shake our heads, the sun may come and the moon
may grace the evening sky on some nights...we will smile and look

at her, and bask in the knowledge

that everything passes.


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It's just unfortunate that we have to choose sides. In the end, no on really wins. We will all come out of this, different persons, strangers...and all we had forged, all that we had in the past will all be irrelevant, ignored and forgotten, eventually it will all be just a footnote in our lives. It's a shame but that's the ugly truth. We live in a time where old wounds never heal, an era in which people never forgive and rarely forget. The old school thought that our word is the gospel truth, and yours is nothing but an insignificant speck in the vast ocean of lies and fabrications, we are not perfect, who am I to say that, we are not...and so are you. I have no ill will against these people, I consider some of them friends...sad that some have become collateral damage in this so called 'war'. It's very tragic to think about the time and energy that will be spent building fences around, rather than brides across.
...


It's lamentable to think that your arrival is very inappropriately timed. Never did we foresee this, if I could choose, if I had the power I could have spared you...it seems that you are put in the sidelines, the background, you are caught up in the middle, swept aside and somewhat forgotten, It's no one's fault if you look at it, your arrival could have had a bigger impact, but people are too caught up in all the chaos, they are just too busy to ever feel the level of joy we are feeling right now.

Don't worry, you'll always be important in my book.


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Coolest comic book hero ever!

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Depeche Mode Enjoy the Silence

Words like violence
Break the silence
Come crashing in
Into my little world
Painful to me
Pierce right through me
Can't you understand
Oh my little girl

All I ever wanted
All I ever needed
Is here in my arms
Words are very unnecessary
They can only do harm

Vows are spoken
To be broken
Feelings are intense
Words are trivial
Pleasures remain
So does the pain
Words are meaningless
And forgettable

All I ever wanted
All I ever needed
Is here in my arms
Words are very unnecessary
They can only do harm

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One of my favorite songs...ever.

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It's never enough, the time just slips by, in the speed of light like time drips from the space between your fingers like heavy molten lead, like the sands through an hourglass, like time in fast forward, fast as fast can ever be, like the lives of our heroes, gone too soon, like life suddenly stopped dead in it's heels by a freak accident, like suicide putting a period to a sorry and miserable life, where the light ends and sends forth darkness. Like a balloon burst, in time, in days that may never be again. I am talking about anything and nothing, like the wind humid and dry, like the aching of my heart and the pain in my throat, it's never enough, yes it's never enough just as you are never there, it's on a milk carton somewhere...flushed down the toilet, swept under the rug, discarded like yesterday's news.

The devil is in my head, he's in my dreams, he extends his hand, and I oblige...although the past few days have been good, and I am thankful, don't get me wrong. I am, in the deepest recesses of my heart I truly am...happiness in the air, I am in limbo, the 7th circle, in the air drifting like a feather, I have found some answers, in the water, I am in water, under it...submerged and wet to the touch, I am in paradise, I am...I will always be. In doubt and in pain, the world turns and I am in unison I am just trying to get by, striving to breathe where others would not do, I am trying...I am as confused and as tired as you are, I am not trying to be profound, or address every question life poses. I am just trying to be...be whatever it is I am destined, to be that, and nothing more.

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It has never subsided...it still is a shame, and the consequences might be far too great for any of us to overcome. That's just the way things go.

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What if’s?

We are often faced with this question, and I brandish it like a banner, like a double edged sword…in my every waking hour. What if…what if it hadn’t been this way? What if the stars were not frowning on us that night? Had the world been a far more fairer place, would it be any different? It’s a question of choice, of keeping things in check. Had I not done this, or what if I held my tongue instead of saying those things…or what if I held my fists or had kept my anger at bay, whichever came first…would the situation be any less aggravated than it is now? I have so many things in my mind, so many things in the gray, because that’s where everything is right now…in gray areas, and it’s hard when everyone wants it to be in black and white. Everything is so vague, sometimes people misconstrue and misinterpret, my actions are dictated by my conscience and not by anything or anyone, at least that is what I choose to believe.

I have so many things to cover, I am in a dilemma, my quandary is thus that I am too dug in, I am in my neck and I can’t seem to dig myself out. Even if I wanted to, I can’t.

There’s too much hatred, in excess and it’s ridiculous if you think about it. How much hate can a person feel for someone, how deep is the pain that time can’t even heal it. I could never understand, and maybe I never will. It’s just a futile exercise at comprehension, and trying to find meaning in all of this would be just as fruitless. There’s no use in putting the blame on one particular person, it’s pointless. Things have already been said – let’s keep it at that. To further the damage would be immature, I know people would not take things sitting down, that’s their prerogative. I just hope we learn from this experience and come out of this a better person…come out unscathed and our morals and our dignity intact.

It has been a hell of a week…or weeks. So much has happened. So much has been said and done, some bad and others good. I count on these good things, the blessings, although few and far between I’ll take them anyway I can.


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Children who grew up in the 80's ought to remember this cartoon character, Shmoo. Saturday Fun Machine on RPN 9 every Saturday morning ring a bell? Anyway, I saw this picture and there's something disturbing about Shmoo...is it just me or does he look like a dick...he looks like a small penis with swollen nuts!

The character designer must have been on weed or some other high grade shit or something! Hehe...just a thought, weird thing was, I enjoyed this show back in the day.

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Happier times???

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Good god! I used to play and make believe I was Mightor when I was a kid, complete with cape, mask and that wooden club...ah, the good old days...hehe, told you I was old school. Looking at the picture brings back fond memories...I promised myself I wouldn't cry! *holding back the tears*

Hehehe...but seriously now, that shot really brings back memories.

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I just had to post these pictures! I'm a child of the 80's, what can I say? Hehe

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