dedicated to thejealouspunk.

"we - as a deck of cards"
by nadia almashoor



they hand us down.

they shuffle us around.

but yet we still remain in the deck.

and all we need to do sometimes is to paint the roses red.



blanket your eyes everyone.

boredom can lead to suicide.

but at least i won't end up in jail.

but i hear in the "other" prison i'd end up in,

there is no such thing as bail.

oh...decisions can be so tough.

: went for a bbq by the beach with ex classmates from perth, australia. there was a strange way of lighting the coal. later in the evening, me and bc went to get groceries and i bumped into a college friend who didn't go to the prom. there was something wrong with her dress but nothing i could do about it. then we realized we forgot to get cigarettes so we had to to go to the shops again. but this time, following another route because the rooms we passed on the way to the shops...well, there was some major orgy going on. however, no matter how much we tried to avoid seeing such debauchery, we nearly went into a room where a young nymph was getting devoured by a shrivelled old man. in a bathtub. in the morning, there was a raid for drugs and i saw this girl who i was certain had e on her but she got away with it by saying they were zoloft. jeez. :

: a skater ate human skulls for fun and the rest of the body he would shove it in his cat. it was a white american short haired cat. and it was average sized. not an enormous creature or anything. :

plastiqueusa : this is what i don't like about dreams.

plastiqueusa: there is no control.

plastiqueusa: the impossibilities.


how right he is.

the channel plays the velvet underground, redhousepainters and slowdive.

: michael stipe called while he was on tour in spain. and dedicated 'losing my religion' to me. but it sounded more like 'shiny happy people'. still, it was good of him to do so. :

the other part of the dream involved me and some kids going for a late night walk and we witnessed a break in but the owner of the house managed to trap the burglar and he gave us the burglar's wallet to keep. loads of money in it but we had to split between the 6 of us.

: irritating girl puked on my bedroom floor and i told her to wash it off but she didn't want to. there was blood as well and it got to my feet. i couldn't bear the sight so i had to do the cleaning up. what a cunt. :

: was sitting in a dark and gloomy cafe and my company was a bunch of soft toys. whilst they didn't respond to me "normally", i knew they were not really in the mood to eat so i had to get take-aways instead. one of the bears wasn't feeling so well and laid face down in the back seat of the car. :

last night i dreamt of fireworks.

last last night i dreamt of lucifer.

according to dream moods :

To see fireworks in your dream, symbolizes enthusiasm, creativity, and talent. It may also indicate that you are showing off and making a spectacle of yourself.

oh great.
won't bother with lucifer.

you reckon it's a bad sign that i start picking up dostoyevsky again?
oh it's just a phase, i say.

thejealouspunk made me listen to blur.

16. 12. 04

i bet you a lot of people would be dead today.
we live by numbers whether we like it or not.
for me, numbers are not just digits.
they are my friends too.

p.s. thank you poeku radio.

a question.
so what are people supposed to do if they want to avoid a collision (thud!) but still lie in the field, enjoying the clouds drifting by, listening to the grass grow - not thinking in other words? sounds hard? not at all. logically, it's easy. c'est simple. the answer is dreams. dreaming on and on. entering the world of dreams, and never coming out. living in dreams for the rest of time.

in dreams you don't need to make any distinctions between things. not at all. boundaries don't exist. so in dreams there are hardly ever collisions. even if there are, they don't hurt.

reality is different. reality bites.
reality, reality.

sputnik sweetheart by haruki murakami.
pg 148.
---
i remember being obsessed with murakami a couple of years ago. there was a sense of elation every time i got to the final page. sometimes i wish to feel like that again with the books i pick up nowadays.

too many choices and too high the expectations.

long time no dream.

and even if i do, they are either fragmented or lost.and i wake up screaming.
never ask me "how's life?" for i will fucking kill you.and you better believe it.

for those in the know, it has been exactly a year.cheers.


watch 2046.
it is good.