As I told Murali, my friend in Madras, it takes about a year and a half to feel comfortable in a city. I think I'm going to put on jackson's "man in the mirror", twirl my moustache as I look at myself, and ask for a time-out. Time to tap Henri for that guitar.
Now let me think, back in the day, in St Peter, when I stumbled home, there was some woebegotten poetry in my soul. Today, I felt around in my false bravado for something resembling poetry- I discovered fear.
Why the fear? I wonder. I wish I wonder and I don't know for what.
a nap (and some sobriety) later...
man in the mirror???...what was I thinking?
There you have it jellog-readers, soul-less to the point that I was indulging wacko-jacko. Sobriety- more sobriety, less alcohol....
the pernicious influence of young ryan
It has to be the said the biggest problem with Young Ryan that he is not a communist sympathiser. But as much as it is said, we remember great leaders for their defeats, and those that aren't for their victories. So perhaps the problem with young ryan's lack of anarchist, nihilist or communist sympathies are the large demands that the blogsbody feels the need to place on the capable shoulders of the gun-toting coy-boy from alberta.
The reason I mention him is that he is working a tremor through my song lists. First it was death cab (although that was a joint Smooshed-YR effort) and now, the looming large of Bright Eyes, threatening to upset my apple tart of a playlist.
YR, your nouive, your gall, is downright downrighteous! may you burn in hell for this! Don't you realise you are tearing my no-recommendation policy to shreds?[dark mutterings...]
latar,
baliqatar
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