You’re 1/3 irish…i dunno how that happened..but
you are….

How Irish are you??
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Still a little bit of your taste in my mouth

Still a little bit of you laced with my doubt

Still a little hard to say what’s going on

Still a little bit of your ghost your witness

Still a little piece of your faceI haven’t kissed

You step a little closer to me

StillI can’t see what’s going on

Stones taught me to fly

Love taught me to lie

Life taught me to die

So it’s not hard to fall

When you float like a cannonball

Still a little bit of your song in my ear

Still a little bit of your wordsI long to hear

You step a little closer each day

So close thatI can’t see what’s going on

Stones taught me to fly

Love taught me to lie

Life taught me to die

So it’s not hard to fall

When you float like a cannon

Stones taught me to fly

Love taught me to cry

So come on courage!

Teach me to be shy

‘Cause it’s not hard to fall

AndI don’t want to scare her

It’s not hard to fall

AndI don’t wanna lose

It’s not hard to grow

When you know that you just don’t know

Cannonball – Damien Rice

We might kiss when we are alone

When nobody’s watching

We might take it home

We might make out when nobody’s there

It’s not that we’re scared

It’s just that it’s delicate

So why do you fill my sorrow

With the words you’ve borrowed

From the only place you’ve know

And why do you sing Hallelujah

If it means nothing to you

Why do you sing with me at all?

We might live like never before

When there’s nothing to give

Well how can we ask for more

We might make love in some sacred place

The look on your face is delicate

So why do you fill my sorrow

With the words you’ve borrowed

From the only place you’ve know

And why do you sing Hallelujah

If it means nothing to you

Why do you sing with me at all?

So why do you fill my sorrow

With the words you’ve borrowed

From the only place you’ve know

And why do you sing Hallelujah

If it means nothing to you

Why do you sing with me at all?

Delicate – Damien Rice

You are Allan Quatermain! You love to hunt, and
you’re damn good at it too. It’s too bad that
everyone you get close to dies…but you still
manage to kick everyone’s ass, and that you do.

Which League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Member Are You? (with pics)
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sean connery is so fucking gorgeous. o_o

hmm. purple font. how gay.

and i wonder, how would it be like if you died in a pool of mercury one day; will you stare into your reflection in your dying throes and feel odd because you don’t know who you are staring at and only that when the person in the reflection breathes in the same rhythm as you and flutter his eyebrows the same instant you do (you see darkness then) that you realise that he is you.

but are you him?

you die in a moment of black grey and brillance.

it’s raining now and there is nothing i like more than the fury of the storm dashing itself onto its surroundings, of the violent patter of the rain, and the howl of the wind.

you always sleep better after the violence has abated.

and today i watched amelie again and it still is as beautiful as it was 6 months, half a year ago in another time another night on another saturday and another ten pm.

“Ever remembered how time passed ever so slowly when you were a child and then you suddenly become fifty? And all that is left of your childhood fits nicely into a little box”

yes, i do.

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and today (now), marks the final teacher’s day i will ever celebrate in my life just as this year has been the last year for many other things. mr perry and his bow, mr miles humming to the fall of the world’s own optimist, mr barnard with a gigantic fist to my chin with my arms around him and mr burge with a sword through his head. one day i shall post the images online and it is decidedly sad that all that is left of this aspect of my childhood would fit nicely into a transient unphysical post.

these days i look into the mirror and i don’t really recognise myself. “who is this short, thick-necked person with goldfish eyes and bulging lips? what a monstrosity.”

these days i look past planes of silver and peel if off layer by layer and i will give up because the floor around me will be filled with strewn crunched silver-sheets and i still will not have the answers i’m looking for.

these days (most days), i’m in an almost perpetual state of stasis, not doing, not moving.

i’ve stopped being.

and i think its a thing of beauty to see a constant luminous spot in the dark night sky, with no moon nor twinkling night stars beside it. especially the twinkling night stars because i seek solace in constancy, brillance and the intermittent unfading of light every millisecond. and for once in a long time, i will bask in it, me, mars and the infinite darkness of the night.

okay, like what the holy fuck my handphone bill is like $165 this time? with 2800 smses again.

brilliant job pak. fucking brilliant job. o_O