and this is such a pretty song.

If I need to be curious

I’ll hold it back

If I seem to be serious

I’ll spout it out

Last year was the best I ever had

Last year was the best I sold you that

Now I hear your voice again

It’s like someone’s listening

I know you’re there

If you’re not in this world once again

Watch the way you backstroke across the room

Arms out, floating

It consumes me

You haunt in your trail

100m Backstroke – Josh Rouse

Gray:

You poor, depressed child. A rain cloud seems to
follow you everywhere. The worst has always got
to happen doesn’t it? Life is miserable.

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i like grey eyes.

tonight (last night 30 minutes ago) i caught the devil’s own. and it is a lovely show, in which brad pitt and harrison ford are caught in the fingers of fate (or chance as mr burge would rebuke me.) where the former is apprehended by the latter’s cop role because he is an ira agent and at the end, in a particularly poignant moment where the 2 are injured in a crossfire, pitt mortally, ford said “let me send you to a hospital.” whereupon pitt would reply “but this is not an american story; it’s an irish one.”

and the last shot of the movie would be that of the boat moving in an almost graceful arc in a futile effort to reach the shore.

Conscious self	Overall self

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You are a Siberian Dwarf Hamster!

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gaaaaaaaaaaaaleeeeeeeeeeeen.

and this is so surreal, at about 2 hours ago, the news flashed this: “Due to SARS, schools will be closed till April 6th. [sic]“

and it is so irritating because i only have lit left; why can’t they have that before maths? -mutters-

once and again, i am history for history. (what am i doing online.)

oh, and maths too. mutters.

and every now and then the spirit of the stairway would poke its head around and laugh mercilessly at me, of the things that could have been but will never be, like maths which i will so fail later in the day. whee.

i.hate.maths.

oh alright, i mean who wouldn’t after not doing half a year’s work of assignments and have to cram them all down in a single day? but anyway, bloody maths. : |

and it is rather odd; whenever i read X’s blog and the dreams she has, a strange of feeling of deja vu would fall over me and i will oddly recognise those dreams as those which i had when i was young(er) and they would be frightful ones, ones that i would wake up from with droplets of perspiration over my face and dreams which would leave me hopelessly drained and aching and painful.

and always after these dreams, i would sit down at my table and write. and i will forget about these dreams.

(but these days i don’t dream anymore.)