I am ill. I feel awful. Unbelievably awful.
Ryan who writes the most bizare, most wonderful, bestest comic ever wrote me the sweetest letter. Fool that he is he's actually encouraging me to stalk him nice and proper. Now only if we weren't on seperate continents. I think it's love, but that's just my opinion.
I had something very valid and rational to say but I'm ill so I'm excused.
Keep on keeping on kids.

Hug me or I shall destroy you.

I'm in love with this ninja.
LOVE.
I'm happy ! And I'm listening to Led Zep !
I went with my mother for this kid's first birthday party at Gymkhana. I saw a magician and had birthday cake. I was however not given a balloon : /
I'm happy and I have no reasons. Ha ha.
This ninja

Crazy-can't-draw-lady rant

Think of the story of how he won me my eight ball. Which just lies in my drawer. With a lot of junk. They gave me that certain amount of space to let me have my mess. I feel like being productive and organised and finicky about where you keep what and not letting you touch anything I own. I went all out and made me happy and found my graphite pencil again and drew the same. It was a relief to be drawing again but it has to irritate you that after so much time and after missing the paper so much I still am drawing the same things. I'm not submitting anywhere. EVER.
This man taught me how to draw. When he said he would I laughed and told him I already knew how to and had been drawing since I could talk. But he taught me these different things. And after that I have got stuck in this tiny corner where I unconsciously keep trying to apply what he taught me and to move the slightest bit from there. I have had some kind of crazy mind control game played which I don't understand which won't let me draw. It's like I won't be able to draw anything different till I get what I've been trying for so long exactly right. Ugh. I hate this kind of straitjacketing. Not being able to draw makes me more irritable and upset than any kind of denial. There are these certain themes that I've been wanting to work on for quite a while. And they've been stewing for so long that I have a pretty clear idea of what they're going to be like. I'll probably forget them or go crazy and have all my teeth extractedso that I don't bite before I get around to them. And my eight ball is considerably heavy. I could use it for murder. Won with such skill. Would be a fitting end.

According to the celtic tree months if I were to have a wand it'd be made of willow.
I'm reading Lying about Hitler by Richard Evans who was an expert witness at the David Irving trial. I've never heard about revisionism before. There are these people who try to deny the whole holocaust. They say it never happened. They are using these archives to make it sound like the number of people the Nazis killed were just as many as those killed by the Allies, that the concentration camps and the everything that we associate with the holocaust was a product of the war. It didn't precede it, it was a consequence. The book raises the whole question of history's authenticity. The question of whether political correctness prevents us from even trying to hear these people out, straitjacketing our perception. It could be true y'know. Probably isn't but could be.

I cry when I give head.
I fuck like a girl.

Your brother he got me some silver. Your sister warmed my soul. But now I laugh and pull so hard. See you swinging on the gallows pole.

Aaj phir jeene ki tamana hai.
Aaj phir marne ka irada hai.

The Book Quiz

You're To Kill a Mockingbird!
by Harper Lee
Perceived as a revolutionary and groundbreaking person, you have changed the minds of many people. While questioning the authority around you, you've also taken a significant amount of flack. But you've had the admirable guts to persevere. There's a weird guy in the neighborhood using dubious means to protect you, but you're pretty sure it's worth it in the end. In the end, it remains unclear to you whether finches and mockingbirds get along in real life.

The questions are odd and I don't think I've changed many a mind. It's hardly a quiz. Still. Take it ?
http://bluepyramid.org/ia/bquiz.htm

Panacea (the lollipop)

Happy McDoodle is happy. She loves being by herself.
My favourite relative just returned from vilait and got me a half kg lollipop. I'm not even sure how that works but you know that it counts as a good thing. I hate the weather and am moving to Norway. I'm not going to write to anybody from there. I'm going to go find me some snow.
But seriously, I've started dreaming of winter in colder darker more secretive places. If I have a daughter ever I'm naming her Winter.

I'd have to admit that there's little I know about it. I remember the morning, when I woke up and was looking at the piece of paper left for me. Handwritten, with black ink that seemed to be clumpy and came off dry in some places. I remember the coffee. Smooth and bitter, thick enough to lie on my tongue for minutes at end. I was not the ideal person to talk about loss. It was around 9 am and the sun was already bright. I was sitting at one end of the room, facing the window with this beautiful silver mug in my hand, staring out at the sunny mess that lay ahead of me. I remember the closet seemed burgundy in colour in the sunlight. I would not admit to hatred, to jealousy. I wanted nothing more than to die rather than read what she had to say, than to go out and talk of gut wrenching loss. I had a particularly effeminate photograph of him in my wallet. If I had gassed myself as I had wondered about, they would have found the picture. I didn’t want to embarrass you. Plus my coffee had never tasted that good. Never did after that either.

Yes, I believe in love.
Yes, I am a dreamer.
But, I'm not alone.
There are more of us than you suspect.
And we've got bombs.
Truth and beauty bombs.

A softer world.

In the blinking stardust of a pale blue light, you're coming through to me in black and white.
When we were made of dreams. Midnight's broken toll. Insomnia isn't the appropriate word. When you sleep 14 hours a day to recharge, is it? The moonshiner said that this isn't a dream any more, it's the real thing. It felt foolish but buzzed with it's own charge. We had to stay after that.
They'll tell you to sit there and wait, she'll huddle against you. You'll be stuck with her responsibility after that. She doesn't let them go home. Always always has to be with someone next to her. Run while you can, really. I've seen her walk through the streets that are dead. She walks with thoughts of me in her head. Horrible light, cherry red stars. Felt like the flesh fell off her face, blues wrapped around my head. She talks of Paris, calling it Paree and you think she means fairies.

Nick Cave and Johnny Depp are giving me a very hard time indeed. I can't quit either. They're both getting me quite upset.
www.deppimpact.com
For fellow people who feel that restraining orders don't help you understand love any better.

Turn my back on you and let you die. Crumpled cloth mornings. We're the wandering kind. Simpler minds. What I seem to know can't apply to always. This is just my age. If this were an early realisation of things to come can you begin to imagine how steep it is, all the way downhill from here?
Oh fuck.
My kingdom for a simpler time.