Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
Hello all you out there!
I've just created, and begun filling with content, a new home for myself...
Head over to my new blog for updated stuff about my boring, everyday life :)
Peace of mind only comes with death
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Hello again. This is the new year speaking. I'm hoping you won't fuck with me anymore and appreciate everything that is to come this time around. I've many surprises up my sleeve and I hope you'll like them.
First off, this isn't an annoucement. It's just bullshit. Never mind me. I'm just here and always will be.
Be prepared for anything. That way you won't be surprised by anything!
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
I'm getting older... Luckily for, I've a son that keeps me young :)
We're throwing a party this Friday with many of our friends and I know it's gonna be a blast :)
Anyhoo! That's all folks!
Love me now, when I deserve it the least!
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Damn... only a few weeks after I post the sadest poem ever written about death, a person actually gets killed in an insane stunt from a fucked up mad-fucking-man...
What the fuck is happening in this fucked up world... Come on... Haven't we learnt anything?
What the fuck was the sixties all about? Make love, not war goddamnit...
I'm just too pissed off and so fucking sad, all I can do is curse... Sorry about that.
I'll end this one like the dolphins:
So long and thanks for all the fish
Sunday, November 14, 2004
He is dead or Funeral Blues
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever; I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood,
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
W. H. Auden