see ya around kid

x

starting to come down with a man cold*. really not impressed to be honest. for the past year or so pretty much anytime i've got slightly wet from being out in the rain i've managed to develop a cold shortly after. my immune system must be pretty sketchy. then again, with a diet as, umm, limited as mine who can be suprised.

(* a man cold is pretty much the same as a regular cold, but you'd think it was life threatening by the complaining, moaning, and general shutting down of everyday life)

i was reading something interesting about colds the other day; gotta have something to kill time right? anyway, apparantly there are a couple of hundred 'versions' of the common cold. once your body has suffered from one version then you are immune from that version for the rest of your life. so you only ever have that version of the cold once. thats supposed to be the reason that young people get more colds on average than older people.

dunno how much, if any, of that is actually true but i thought it was pretty interesting.

then again im an idiot.

so what do i know.

From: Caught in a flood with the captain of the cheerleading squad

But it's unlikely. You don't like me,
and I don't like me, and it's unlikely.

Charlie No. 1

We've seen her type before
Sandals and the hair
They fall in love with big dumb boys
And we sit and stare

So we walk the long way home
Glasses in our hands
When the last of the ice is eaten
Throw them as far as we can

There's a problem
There's no sleepy girl to wrap you in her loving arms
There's a lizard on the doorstep
And there is music in my head

We put the world on hold
Two young men growing old
We talk of years like lost weekends
And the harbour shrugs

Because friends are getting fewer
And we vow life will be fuller
But if the last of our dreams is broken
We'll walk the same way home

There's a gold star on your forehead
But there is trouble up ahead
Charlie what'll become of us?
I had my dreams for both of us
For both of us

You might be unworthy
But you remember what I remember
And that's enough to care
You don't fall off the rails

like huffing gas out in the dried-up meadow grass, under stars that shine like glass in the sun

1, 2 and 3 happen so fast that they don't even register.

4, 5 here comes that old familiar twang as your feelings manage to catch up to your actions. it's like visiting an old friend almost in a way; there is a comfort in going back to what you know - like the streets where you grew up. like remembering your first kiss, or the first time you bought beer and got away with it.

6 is a slow one. you flinch at first, there's that piercing twang again, but as you slowly move across that feeling receeds and all that replaces it is a chilly numbness that has an edge of tingling. as if you've been sat in a funny position for too long.

7, 8, 9, 10, 11 and 12 are fast again. and yet again there is a delay between what you do and what you feel. perhaps its the adrenalin. quite a nice design going here. short parrallel lines. it'd be good to break that up a bit, but at the same time it's a shame to spoil something so perfectly arranged.

destructive behaviour can be creative.

13, 14, 15 and 16 are slower. the anger has worn away for now, but it's unfair to say these are half-hearted. they are just as valid as the rest.

there's a sharp pang as the water touches. it's not especially warm but it feels as if it's boiling. it's not totally unbearable but it does require clenched teeth for the first few seconds.

after that there's just the cold, dull ache that feels as if it's carved deep down in your bones.

you didn't really

do a good job of disappearing. in fact, you pretty much did the opposite.

Cover the Roots, Lower the Stems and Sol Solis have been on repeat forever.

Sorted out some stuff at the bank, so I now have money again, which is helpful for stuff like rent. And nights out. Oh and paying people back what I owe them. And petrol, I can nearly afford to start driving on a regular basis again.

24

1pm, Saturday 20th October 1984 - Monday 20th October 2008

'you' vs 'them'

I think you're reading far too much into things, you do tend to have a habit of doing this - it's stated fact. You can't deny it. You also really don't pick up hints well. You need things spelling out to you nice and clearly, and even then it can take you a while to get the message.

Let me put it this way to you; if you think one thing, then it is highly likely that you have the complete wrong end of the stick.

Look at what they have. Ok, now why on earth would they trade that in? Talk about downgrading, regressing, taking a step backwards et al. Ain't gonna happen friend.

People only change what they have in order to get something better - that's when they have the choice to change, obviously some things change without people having much/any say in the matter - but on the whole I don't think anyone would willingly get rid of something good for something bad.

So should you get all this of your chest? My honest advice is no. You don't want to freak them out or scare them away or put them in the position where they have to either laugh it off or make up some way of letting you down gently.

Just disappear for a while.

if only

crimson velvet and black lace would do nicely. *sigh* if only.

tomorrow maybe?

Godspeed You! Black Emperor - The Dead Flag Blues

Just some selected lines from a really gorgeous song.
----

The car's on fire and there's no driver at the wheel.

And the sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicides.

The flags are all dead at the top of their poles.

The skyline was beautiful on fire.

I said "Kiss me, you're beautiful. These are truly the last days."

You grabbed my hand and we fell into it. Like a daydream. Or a fever.

hey, FUCK YOU

(yea its a busy blogging night for me tonight)

am i really doing something that is so different to everyone else? i mean REALLY different? i didn't think so, but now i'm starting to wonder.

just pisses me off when theres so many knobheads out there who dont make any effort and there's me here busting a gut for absolutely feck all. really really pisses me off.

see i could just write what im actually thinking about, but why do that when i can create paragraph after paragraph interweaving a piss weak over arching metaphor about 'technique'.

i think almost everything is the result of certain actions, whether that's physical actions, or knowing the right thing to say at the right time, or whatever. that means that those actions can be studied and applied to another person.

some people are really good at drawing, i'm not. but i could be if i studied someone else's technique. if i studied how they approached a drawing, from composition, to sketching in the forms, to manipulating lighting etc etc. of course, a lot of this is down to practise, but given the right technique and enough time i could teach myself how to be a semi-decent artist. same goes for playing a musical instrument, or speaking a foreign language etc.

but what really grinds, is that i know my technique is good. the things i am doing are the 'right' things to do. hell, there are a lot of people with a technique that is far worse, and yet it still seems to deliver results for them. that's the thing that pisses me off.

technique then. important shit.

what i'm really talking about is a descriptive word. it starts with an L and ends in an S.

that hurt :'(

Candlelight Conversations

Sitting at a table on a dark balcony overlooking the Danube , watching the reflection of passing headlights and the sound of a city slowing shutting down for the night. Our table is lit up by a few candles, which creates an atmosphere of gentle shadows. Conversation is lubricated thanks to the empty bottles of white wine.

We decide to explore the city and set out across the bridge. Neon glows of nightclubs lookng towards the parliament building.

We get a tram to nowhere in particular and quickly find out that not really knowing where we are going isn't going to yeald anything substancial. Hunger strikes and the only place that still has a light on is across the street. Arriving at the door we find the staff are closing up for the night. So we head back to the tram stop.

We both have a fondness of Jagermeister and Guiness so we get off the tram a stop early to head to an all night store. A myriad of backstreets and dark doorways later and the shop is in sight. Once we get inside though we find out that they stop selling alcohol at 10pm. It's already about 1.30am by this time so we decide to cut out losses and take a slow stroll back 'home'.


Wandering through the wooded paths of Margaret Island at this time of night is beautiful. There's no one around. No life, no sound, nothing. Just darkness and occassional streetlamps and us. She stops for a cigarrette. We turn back to face the way we have just walked and sit in the middle of the path with the Danube sliding past on our left hand side.

Getting back everyone else is already in bed. It's cold now, and all the candles are dead. We sit sharing a duvet and look out over the Danube again. There are hardly any headlights and almost total silence. The nearest thing to heat is the glow of half smoked cigerrettes. I say I like Bukowski, she says she does too. Her favourite is Hollywood, I say mine is Post Office or Women.

It's past 4am now and she needs to be up at 9.30. I have the luxury of an extra half hour in bed, although we also have to head into town to find an internet cafe with printer, otherwise we won't be able to get home. Quite a strong reason to make sure I'm up on time for once then.

Time to turn in. This is one of those nights that just make sense.

For Emma, forever ago

is a beautiful album that I've been listening to a lot lately.

It's peaceful. It's sad. It's relaxing.

I really like it.