Cleaned Clean...

There was a boy who ran away. He didn't say why, just he had to go. He fled from the smallest sign of threat. This small boy.

There was once this boy who died, when he was playing dead. His features were surrounded by flowers. This breathless boy.

Puppet Strings...

Untitled, Uncredited 2007

Born Of Frustration...

Or to end?

Got to do something to feel alive, do it.

I've Been Using Talking Heads Lyrics For Cryptic Post Titles, Same As It Ever Was...

Reminds me of plumbing...

Lions and Tigers...

We have many themes and even a trip to the zoo can create more... all things measured by the hippo vs rhino debate, beauty flitting in the butterfly house (and painstaking photos), baby elephants reflect dreams, and, of course, the Penguins.

But none so dear as the little black bear all bristly and bright eyed... now he's a heart grabber.

Oh My.

Kanon Und Gigue In D-Dur Für Drei Violinen Und Basso Continuo

Untitled, BD 2007

Although No-One Knows What Goes On Inside Your Head, Everything Seems As If You're The Same As You've Always Been...

There can be no end to anything without something beyond to mark that end and display where nature and human natures can go no further. If we should say for the sake of argument that the whole of space were limited, then if a man moved into the last moments and threw a stone, would you consider that, by all might and muscle that the stone travelled on as it was thrown, or do you think something, 'the end' would stop and block its progression?

Decide, with either assumption and its correlating allowances cuts off escape and forces you to grant that the all things go on and have no bounds. For if his stone is stopped by something from tracing its projection, or freely splashes down, where it started was not the end.

So it will go: no matter where you spot 'the end', consider; what happens to the stone?

Poppies...

Vets, Uncredited

This Is The 944th Post, That Means This Blog Has 52 More Posts Than BD And More Than 3 Times The Posts Of The Other Side Of The Circle...

...and we've got less readers than was ever sustained on either.

So let me try to post this again and see if it can muster any of the attention it didn't get the last time.

Categories of anguish tend to merge together: the oppression of depths and the closed evoke dread of the void, the corridors of the kingdom of the dead resound in the far depths of ourselves like the idea of the infinite. This spectacle is a ritual, one infinitely despairing of solitude.

A shudder... Those few seconds, free from vibrations, are an eternity. In them, they condense the depth of interior reflections, funeral exploration of dark labyrinths, from which only the unique and irredeemable end is certain. Would the music be only punctuation and accentuation, the frame more or less hewn from an absolute silence, secretly sought after?

Every being anguished by its own existence experiences an irresistible attraction for those end of the day contemplations. Can it itself foresee what its feeling will be? Weary of life and desiring the night... Or on the contrary, sparking off internally at the sight of the last flaring? Two extreme examples, amongst others, to show the nodal character of that moment when all of each day's conflict are replayed.

I Still Have Mine...

Untitled, BD 2007

As you store all of this time... - Kubichek! / Start As We Mean To

2 Tens (Continued Continued Continued, This Series Is Almost As Long And As Pointless As The Bloodsport 'Chronicles')...

Ten Good Actors

001. Samuel L. Jackson
002. Christopher Walken
003. Pete Postlethwaite
004. Gary Oldman
005. Hugo Weaving
006. Michael Caine
007. William H. Macy
008. John Cusack
009. Morgan Freeman
010. Damian Lewis

Ten Bad Or Ugly Actors

001. Kevin Bacon
002. Marlon Brando
003. Randy Quaid
004. Mike Myers
005. Marty Feldman
006. Adam Sandler
007. Mickey Rourke
008. Steve Carrell
009. Danny DeVito
010. Jim Carrey

The Purple-Shirted Eye Stabber Without His Shirt Is A Real Martyr...

11.02.2007, Kris

When Your Dreams Are Dying, Hold Tight, Don't Give Up, You Can't Forget...

...do we only get what we give?

Follow Your Heart - I Dare You, You Won't Fall Apart - I Believe In You...

Now We're Tall Enough I'm On For The Ride, BD 2007

I Don't Have To Sell My Soul, He's Already In Me...

Has anyone managed to locate any of The Garage Flowers material?

Burst Into Heaven, Looking Down On Me Above, Send Me Home, I Know The Words, Rooms Empty But I Got Plenty...

10.20.2007, Rob

Things Aren't What They Seem

Abandonment can be experienced in many different ways and sometimes it looks like something else. The vacuum that's created by people around you who have closed their hearts and minds to you is as vast as the emptiness of rooms when a loved one has departed.

Disappointment wears like disregard when it's really just the pain of knowing that what you needed can't be produced. It divides people better than any wall that could be constructed from bricks.

Things that grow up often grow away and it's easy to forget that the aim was always to go on to something new. Phases are meant to end and when you linger in one while ignoring the next one opening to you the dissonance can be almost unbearable.

It's hard when who you are is not enough for anyone.

Nice Things About B: Notes

You'd think that after moving here, getting married, and weathering the growing comfortable process, it would stop.

But he still writes me love notes in the middle of the night.

What Would Life Be Like Without...

...spite?

There are some things I just don't know how to respond to. What does a door that should always be open for me being closed in my face really mean? And, how should I respond to it?

Shite.

Dreams / Layers...

Untitled, BD 2007

Dumbarton...

It's getting late between that irritating one million year old blond presenter on Sixty Minutes, the New England Patriots, David Byrne and the startling fact that I've managed to do very little today I feel encouraged that things are levelling out.

If everyone could just listen to the words I say? Selective hearing is a problem with a dog, what would it be called when attributed to a person?

Watch out! You might get what you're after, yeah - then what?

I'm going to miss seeing George dubble-yuh on the TV, no matter what people say about him that face makes me laugh. Kinda like the Dawn Plus advert: JT must think that's how it works in our house. (You'll need to have some memory of seeing the mentioned commercial and a partner with serious resilience to washing dishes to appreciate this humour.)

And already, I want to see some harm come to those "dating goths" just to see where their METAL is. Also, that new Radiohead album, doesn't sound too much like Radiohead; it's pretty good.

NB. And no, it's miles and miles away from where I started...

And You'll Ask Yourself...

She...

Her body as it rests in my mind, is a thing of the most perfect beauty. It has a softness like nothing else, a scent like nothing else and the sweet paleness of her skin hides a warmth without compare. Her body as it rests in my hands, restlessly is a object of considerable desire. It is draped in an intoxicating provocation to lust, a figure of gentle curves from the allure of her collar to the cup of her seat.

Holding her, whether it be in memory or in the flat of my chest fills me with a sense of happiness that I could have experienced otherwise. She is my wife and that's not the half of it.

She is a complete picture: mind body and soul, I'm lucky to have found her even if it means putting up with her inability to recognize compliment...