mind-blowing

have you ever had one of those mind-blowing conversations? one of those that make you think and get you willing to change everything about your life? one of those that make you challenge everything? well, i just have one of those. an it was truly mind-blowing.

notes from danmark (I)

i thought we portuguese people knew how to have fun. i really did. now i tell you, come to danmark.

but before i go to hell:

i want to tell you that sometimes it's quite funny to feed the trolls. especially when they think they're stuck in the middle of a war.

the nightmare before (and after) x-mas

because carriers and isp's in this god-forsaken country are crappy as hell, i won't have internet connection in my homeland any more. therefore, there will be a forced hiatus on the blog starting.... today. note that by hiatus i don't mean a full stop, but only a slowdown in my posting activities - which have been on fire since june. i'll try to snatch some minutes of internet from some friends down there, and in damnark after the 27th. anyway, i'll be back to business as usual after the 3rd of january.

in the meanwhile, try not to freeze. eat many candy and chocolate and all, drink like mad, and have all the fun you deserve.

survival of the fittest

everyone has issues. some people face them and decide to solve them. others try to ignore them. those who face them are granted the gift of living. those who hide in the shadows can merely survive. darwin was right all along

speaking to ourselves

'cause some times, we are merely speaking to ourselves. as if we're looking for a reassurance.

innocent guilt

what i feel is a bit of ressentment that is meant for me. and i did nothing to deserve it. i don't mind to pay for my wrongs, but i really don't like to be found guilty when i'm innocent. neither i do like to be the scapegoat for anyone's issues.

the waking up

i remember the old days, long lost in the memories, when i woke up with images of hatred in my mind. then i remember the day when i woke up with a picture of love, of forsaken love in front of my eyes, and i wept in despair when that hateful truth hit my face. now it was different. surprisinly different. i was given no time to turn the hatred back into love. i just felt the hatred being fiercely burned out, and from its ashes something is being made anew, growing wild in this cold winter. life is twisted by nature.

good morning*

moving forward using all my breath
making love to you was never second besti
i saw the world thrashing all around your face
never really knowing it was always mesh and lace

i'll stop the world and melt with you
you've seen the difference and it's getting better all the time
there's nothing you and i won't do
i'll stop the world and melt with you
(you should know better?)

dream of better lives the kind which never hate
(you should see why)
dropped in the state of imaginary grace
(you should know better?)
i made a pilgrimage to save this humans race
(you should see why)
what i'm comprehending a race that long gone bye

(i'll stop the world)
i'll stop the world and melt with you
(i'll stop the world)
you've seen the difference and it's getting better all the time
(let's stop the world)
there's nothing you and i won't do
(let's stop the world)
i'll stop the world and melt with you

the future's open wide

(let's stop the world)
i'll stop the world and melt with you
(let's stop the world)
i've seen some changes but it's getting better all the time
(let's stop the world)
there's nothing you and i won't do
(let's stop the world)
i'll stop the world and melt with you

the future's open wide

i'll stop the world and melt with you
(let's stop the world)
you've seen the difference and it's getting better all the time
(let's stop the world)
there's nothing you and i won't do
(let's stop the world)
i'll stop the world and melt with you
(let's stop the world)
i'll stop the world and melt with you
(let's stop the world)
i'll stop the world and melt with you
(let's stop the world)

i melt with you, original by modern english, after the snow, 1982 // cover by nouvelle vague

control

i don't like to be controlled. i don't like threats. i don't like people i cannot trust. i don't like people who mess around with serious and personal stuff that has nothing to do with them as if it was a joke - especially when they know me from nowhere. i don't like people who think they can talk about everyone's life - forgive me, i was raised in a village, and i'm sick of that shit. so don't even try.

exhume

the past belongs to the past. for a time, i thought it was worth to exhume it. i was wrong. it must be recorded, and remembered, so its mistakes shall not be repeated and its lessons shall be learned. but the past is not meant to be lived again. it must stay there, in the past, in the memories. we live in the present, hoping for the future. that's the way it must be. the world keeps spinning around oblivious to us. let it be that way.

amusing and confusing

people are incoherent by nature. it's a mess. we see clever people, being an incredible ass sometimes. we see unstable people holding their ground, calm under a hurricane as if the sun was bright in the sky. and we don't understand why. it doesn't make any sense.

immunity

and somethings do not sting as they did. not anymore. it's not that i healed completely, not yet, but i really believe we're on the right track.

two thousand and seven

2007 was one of the weirdest years of my life. it really was. now that i look back (and i shall do it again early in 2008), it meant a huge change in my life, in all possible aspects of my life. i got rid of school, 16 years after i started it - and it was about damn time, if you ask me. i started to work. i travelled more than i tought i'd travel in my entire life (oh, i miss nice, the beautiful nice). i left some people behind, and some people left me behind, and that's what life is all about. i laughed less than i should have laughed, and cried more than i usually do. i betrayed and was betrayed. i read the book of my life - the catcher in the rye, by j.d.salinger. i turned this blog into a hurricane of posts. i was ruthlessly murdered, and when i was not expecting, someone found my scattered parts and reassembled me, and put myself together again. and what a race it has been. life is weird indeed, and that's a good thing about it, isn't it? ok, enough topics, i shall write about them all in the next weeks. cheers!

break the cycle

i suppose that somethings are simply meant to happen. that somethings are timeless, not bound by rules of any kind. and sometimes, those simple, timeless and unavoidable events are meant to break all the cycles and impose themselves as if they are the greatest truth.

and you know what? i like it that way.

a conversation between me and an old university mate

me: you know what? i don't miss our university. and yes, i mean it. i really do. i long no more for the time i was there. all right, it was fun and all, and i still have good friends there. but i don't miss it.

him (incredulous): you serious? how come? has anything happened?

me: yes, and no. you see, i closed the cycle. i went there, had my four years there. and it's over now.

him: okay, but that doesn't mean you do not get involved with that world any more.

me: for me it does. there is nothing left binding me to the place. friends? i need no university to meet them. besides, i've had my time there, now it's time to move forward and give the new ones a chance. it's their world, not mine any more.

him: i see your point, but there was no need for cutting it so deep.

me: actually i needed to. it's a brand new world, here in the ouside. the university was a cycle of my life, and now it's closed. definetely closed.

him: i don't think i could do it. or that i wanted to.

me: well, i can and i want.

if a body meets a body coming through the rye...

i kinda feel like holden caulfield, when he is in a cab with his girlfriend sally.

i knew i got it wrong eight years ago.

architects have been voted the sexiest male professionals in a survey of women's ideal partners. (...) architects are seen as "balanced and rounded individuals who combine a creative approach with a caring, thoughtful disposition". (...) male architects beat stockbrokers, doctors, film directors and teachers to the top spot.

and i'm a bloody journalist. well, this explains a lot. thank you. remember me to never doubt what a psychologist says - she was right.

not surprising on the same survey: men instead voted public relations executives the sexiest profession for females, followed by actresses and journalists. considering the female public relations i know, it doesn't quite come as a surprise.

got the link for the survey here.

gift of oblivion

i never expected to be given the grace of oblivion so soon. i mean, it was not supposed to come, not yet. not now. i should be alone in dark, trying to cover myself from the howling wind and the haunting nightmares assaulting my restless nights. and it started quite well - down in hell, drowning in hatred and rancor. i never imagined that a couple of songs and some people could bring me up and allow me to breathe again. but they did. they granted me the gift of oblivion.

there is, of course, some stuff still requiring a wiping on my head. and i would like to have a trial to see how i'd do it. but no matter. it's a damn good start nonetheless.

unintended grace

can we feel guilty for something out of our control? we can, of course, but does it make any sense? i mean, it's not anything i can control. i haven't done anything for it - it just happened, in a somewhat random way, and to be honest i can't quite understand why. unintended grace, perhaps? i don't deserve it. i really don't. again, i'm feeling like i did once, when everyone had high expectations about myself, and i couldn't see why - i never could, and i don't think i'll ever be able to.

live fast, die hard

we used to climb the hill, either riding our bikes or on foot. it was about half a mile, maybe a little more, of broken tar. no signals, no lights, a lot of danger. who cared? we climbed to the top of the hill and rode down, faster and faster, until the moment we stopped pushing and let ourselves go. the cold wind made our eyes cry till we were almost blind, but no one cared. we only cared about the vertigo, the pure speed, the adrenaline rush of knowing that, once we reached the traffic circle, we could die if a car were to come before we passed to the other side. but no car has ever come, and we have always got through.

maybe i should take a lesson out of this.

different story

oh, i surely know how to get into trouble. getting out of it, however, is a different story....

to confortably share silence

mia: don't you hate that?
vincent: what?
mia: uncomfortable silences. why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be confortable?
vincent: i don't know.
mia: that's when you know you've found somebody special. when you can just shit the fuck up for a minute, and confortably share silence.
vincent: i don't think we're there yet. but don't feel bad, we just met each other.
mia: well, i'll tell you what, i'll go to the bathroom and powder my nose, while you sit here and think of something to say.
vincent: i'll do that.

in pulp fiction (1994), directed by quentin tarantino

humour me

one of the worst things in the world is people without any sense of humour.

suicide note

it's common sense that the winter is the season of death, while spring is the season of life. pure mistake. differences lie in the colour and in the temperature. the winter of life, the time when we're old, weathered, waiting miss death's visit with the cold wind or the passing rain. non sense. no one remembers the winter of life, for each and every one of us spent it in our mothers' womb - warm, confortable, safe from an aggressive world, just as we are when we sit by the fireplace watching the orange fire, half asleep, half awake. just as the seeds of life are buried underneath the cold earth, waiting for the right moment to burst free. no, spring does not mean the beginning of life, but rather the growing up, the young years, the discovery. then comes the summer, and we are mature and wise and ready to do anything. and then comes the fall, and we fall with it.

they say that most people commit suicide during the winter. that most people meet death in the winter. makes sense, if we do not want to live again. our bodies might only give away their last breath with the frosts of january. yet our heart has stopped beating long ago, by the end of september, with the first drops of rain.

one size (doesn't) fits all

it's really hard to let go our old ways, when they can no longer be kept. we might go every day to the very same pub, till the day it is closed down. then we find another one, but it's not the same. the coffee doesn't taste the same, the ice cubes on the double scotch are not shaped as they should be, we don't fit in the chair, the waitress' smile doesn't fit on us. yet it's funny that we can miss the old habits and become dependant of new ones we get in the meanwhile. and sometimes, that meanwhile takes little more than a heartbeat.

alice

i don't know whether she is, too, tumbling down the rabbit hole or not. but she paid me a visit, and - something rare nowadays! - left me a comment. the important thing, however, was not the comment, but the link to her blog, which is remarkable in every way. here, dear alice, there is no choice between a red or a blue pill. your link is right there on the right, and you got a new daily visitor. best regards*

countdown to the great escape

13 days left. can hardly wait. screw christmas, it will be a pain in the ass as it has been since forever. in 13 days, by this time, i'll be landing on the country where hans christian andersen, soren kierkegaard and viggo mortensen were born. where the lego was invented. where the carlsberg beer is produced. considering how dull and sad and weird has been this year (but i shall write about it by the new year), it will definetely be my great escape.

weather forecast

there are still two trials to endure - one won't take more than five seconds to handle, the other might be a little harder, but that lies not in my hands. yet, and despite the cold outside, the winter forecasts are optimistic, as weird as it might be for me.

time is a pain

time is probably the hardest thing to manage. at least for me, with my chaotic nature. i seldom wake up in time. i seldom arrive in the due time. i might well plan everything i must do in the morning - by nightfall, half of the list remains undone. and the funny thing is, i'm perfectly aware that with a little more organization i would have more free time for myself.

i need to get a personal public relations to handle my agenda, that's it.

shame on me

hearing a song by martha waynewright in the radio made me wonder. i've watched countless crappy movies, and not merely once: but two, three, six, a thousand times the very same crappy movie. yet, there are some masterpieces which i've watched only once. like, for example, who framed roger rabbit?.

small wonder i will burn in hell.

phylosophy out of a friend's messenger nickname (XX)

everything i've lived so far, i'm sharing with you. and everything i haven't yet lived, i shall make up with you. and it definetely sounds like a good principle for life.

supersonic (I)

oasis, of course. regardless of their recent musics (which are still very good, mind you), their classics are worth a lifetime. live forever, wonderwall, don't look back in anger, magic pie, champagne supernova, supersonic. and i could keep going through their songs.

the art of war

curious situation: i'm rebuilding my stronghold and mustering what remains of my army to raid the south; but my scouts on the north informed me that there is an unknown legion gathering its strenght there. and, as if all that was not enough, i cannot simply forget that my keep lies in contestend lands, and my enemies draw near.

i must read the art of war again, i think.

smack-down

sometimes we smack our head against the wall and it hurts and we can't stop doing it - we do it again and again for no reason at all, just for the fuck of it.

ghosts

we live surrounded by ghosts. and i don't mean those related with broken love stories (those might linger around and haunt us for some time, but eventually they'll fade away). i mean ghosts of everything we did. of everything we haven't done. of the paths blocked by our choices. of our mistakes. of our lies. and they haunt us silently, but they never let go. and sometimes, they come back to life and point the finger and try to drown us in guilt.

somethings are not meant to last forever. i'm surprised to see how long this one held.

breaking point

i fear it has finally begun. some things are inevitable - they only take some time.

used

and sometimes we know we're being used, and we don't care. we never know when it might serve our purposes, after all.

between the lines

i should learn to read between the lines better. everything that matters is written there.

hesitation

i should hesitate less and follow my instincts more often. especially when there is really nothing to lose.

euphoria and broken glass

the problem with life is, it's not all fun and games. most of time, life is dull and boring. yes, there is euphoria now and then. and we forget abour everything and dive into it and let ourselves go and live fast and nothing else seems to matter but that moment. but it will be over, eventually. it might take some time, yes, but euphoria always ends. and when it does, what remains? it's like tossing a party at home, see? everyone shows up, great music, booze, laughing, dancing, people screwing and being screwed in the toilet or in any empty room. but when the party is over and the music dies, one remains alone at home to clean up the mess. euphoria is the same. there is the rush, the vertigo, the dizziness, the wild ride on the whirlwind. but then is over, and when we're stuck in the old and boring and dull life, what's left? ruins of what we had before the hurricane and broken glass.

one might have met a lot of people during the whirlwind of euphoria. in parties, in wild nights, i don't know. but how many of those acquaintances remained? how many of them became true friends? and the ones who did, it was due to the euphoria, or did it happened after it, when walking the dull path of routine?

regret

oh, i do remember the feeling. i have also thrown it all away over pride. only to realize, one beautiful morning, that i had fucked up good. in a way, it was an epiphany, a moment of clarity when the truth was so painfully obvious: i had lost it all, i had whined a lot about it, and i couldn't go back - not any more. could do nothing but to carry on through hell, a hell of my own making and not of yours. and regretted. oh, i regretted it all right. couldn't help but feel sorry for myself. and you know what, i see it happening again. it might take a while, all right, but i really see it happening. with a difference, though: this time, it won't be me.

question

sometimes, the answers lie within the question itself.

quoth the raven (XXII):

have you ever danced with the devil in a pale moonlight?

joker, in batman (1989)

on silence (II)

sometimes we know things that we weren't supposed to. things about us in a somewhat indirect way, mind you. and, other people know those things as well. and i know them, and we meet and we chit-chat a while. and it's funny to see their curiosity burning wildly in their eyes. they want to ask. they want to satisfy their curiosity. but they cannot ask. they don't know if i know. they don't know how will i react. they don't want to risk a betrayal. and so, they meet a concrete wall when i say "i'm good, thank you".

love, love will tear us apart again...

when routine bites hard
and ambitions are low.
and resentment rides high
but emotions won't grow.
and we're changing our ways
taking different roads.

then love, love will tear us apart again.
love, love will tear us apart again.

why is the bedroom so cold
turned away on your side?
is my timing that flawed
every feeling run so dry?
Yet there's still this appeal
that we've kept through our lives.

and love, love will tear us apart again.
love, love will tear us apart again.

do you cry out in your sleep,
all my failings expose?
gets a taste in my mouth
as desperation takes hold.
why is it something so good
just can't function no more?

and Love, love will tear us apart again.
love, love will tear us apart again.
love, love will tear us apart again...

nouvelle vague, love wil tear us apart (joy division cover)

the golden compass (II)

one more thing i forgot below: was it really needed to make the golden compass intro so similar to the lord of the rings movie? okay, i know it worked before, and it was nice to hear kate blanchett (galadriel) telling the story of the rings and all, and then watch the green fields of the shire, but hey.... that was other movie.

the golden compass

i have three words for the movie: fucking big disappointment.

in more words: the director, chris weitz, should be crucified. i mean, literally, with a wooden cross and nails and stuff. the books are awesome - among the best sf&f i've ever read. but the movie adaptation is crappy, to say the least. too many important scenes were cut. too many scenarios were left out. too many wrong adaptations were made. for fuck's sake: to start with, lyra does not meet serafina pekkala in the gyptian boat; the gyptians never took their women to war; the svalbard episode follows the events in bolvangar, not the other way 'round; and the ending.... oh my fucking god, what the hell was that all about?

of course, there are good things about the movie. the dæmons have very well made, both when they morph and when they die. the bears are very good, especially iorek and his armour. the scenarios are good and all. but the first half of the movie runs in fast forward, and some moments completely ruin the plot. the most silly example: mrs. coulter does not borrow lyra from the master of jordan. and i could go on like this for the rest of the evening.

remember the adaptation of the lord of the rings? three very good movies that, in my opinion, are a good adaptation of the books. and why? because it makes sense. the characters are defined and the plot was ingenious. the golden compass is the exact opposite - a bad adaptation of a great story. shame, shame. and the director said in an interview he wanted this to be as epic as the lord of the rings? yeah, right. keep dreaming, pal.

still, if they make a movie out of the subtle knife and the amber spyglass, i will definetely see them. the first movie has so many holes in the story that i'm really curious to see what more crap they're making up.

poetic justice

some weeks ago, when everything was all right, i thought about getting tickets for me and her to the nouvelle vague gig, in lisbon. in the meanwhile, however, the shit hit the fan and i dropped the plan. obviously. yet irony was on my side this time, and it turned out they went for an accoustic gig, in the casino - and for free. and fuck it, it was wonderful. too drunk too fuck, tainted love, love will tear us apart.... so many great and true songs. it really felt like poetic justice.

and i've earned some dough in the slot machines. heh.

the path to oblivion starts now. from here, i shall let the world to be reborn.

turning the tide

usually i don't like to start thinking about something good before it happens - as we all know, that's a magnet for bad luck, and even though i'm not a supersticious guy, i'm pessimist. but if all this turns out to be true, then i might well be turning the tide. i just hope the irony is on my side this time. for a change.

and i'll explain what this is all about if it does happen; if not, i'll write another of my usual depressive posts.

classes are overrated

i had the very same feeling when i was studying: both in the high school and in the university, i learned more, far more outside the classes, out of the "learning" time, than in the classes.

on opportunities and luck

opportunities, as luck, are not entirely based on chance. they can be built by ourselves. and this goes for anything: for the obvious (professional life), for the not-so-obvious (personal life) and for the esoteric (love).

killed for the second time.

needless to say more than this.

how soon is now?

there's a club, if you'd like to go.
you could meet somebody who really loves you.
so you go, and you stand on your own,
and you leave on your own,
and you go home
and you cry
and you want to die.

when you say it's gonna happen now,
well, when exactly do you mean?
see, i've already waited too long
and all my hope is gone.

the smiths, how soon is now?, hatful of hollow, 1984

thought of the day:

replace your heart for a liver. that way you will fall in love less, and can drink more. good idea, my friend!

good morning, world. and fuck you.

when we have a crappy waking in the morning, we cannot expect a brilliant day.

húrin himself

no, no, i'm not like túrin turambar, the blacksword, bane of nargothrond and killer of his friend. no, i'm more like his father, the mighty húrin, the warrior of the north who fought the nirnaeth arnoediad and, out of despair, dared to challenged morgoth himself. but that deed, never forgotten in the middle earth, took its toll. the dark god chained húrin in the top of the highest tower up in the highest peak of the thangorodrim mountains, and granted him his vision and his hearing upon the western lands. and then, cursed his own family, so they would fall into disgrace under his all-seeing eyes. and, once the evil found its way, and there was nothing left for then once noble warrior, he was set free into a pathless road. with everything lost, he let himself fall into despair until his death, without any honour or glory.

get to know

and it's impressive how people can surprise us even before we get to know them. mad, mad world.

red light

whenever i catch a cab, i'm sure to step (and stop) on every single red light on the traffic signals. for fuck's sake.

for the heck of it (free translation)

john,
it was in the university that i met you. that i fell in love with you. that i became your girlfriend. it was there that i lived so many moments - some of them good, some of them bad. it was in those halls that i looked for your face, day after day... and now, there is nothing else to look for. now it's useless to go to the bar hoping for you to be there... you won't be there any more.
you finished your studies. you're starting a new life. a new and quite important time is about to begin. an i'm happy for it. i can't help but feel sad for the change this brings to our lives though.
i want you to know that i've always admired you. and in spite of our differences, i truly hope to keep smiling with you. i want to keep giving you every thing you might ever need. i hope you to find a job you like soon, and i expect you to achieve all your goals - both as a journalist and as a writer (i'm still waiting for my tale :)
i'm sure that you can get anything you wish as long as you want to. you just have to be more optimistic and fight for what you want (including me:)
do not forget, though, that you're no longer a student, and that being an "adult" is far harder. having bills to pay is a pain in the ass.
i will always be right here for you, whenever you need. i'm your girlfriend, but above all i'm your friend, and that's what matters the most. for regardless of what the future will bring to us, i will always like you. i will always wish for you to feel good and fulfilled.
thank you for coming into my life. for helping me so many times. for making me smile. for loving me. i shall never forget that you gave me your hand when i was lost. i shall never forget that you let me into your world and shown me how beautiful you can be.
i love you, sweetheart!
a kiss for you.
i do not wish you to be happy; i wish instead that you have many, many happy moments in the course of your life. good luck :)

and we shall never meet again.

on silence

some silences are funny. like those, i-know-something-he-probably-doesn't-so-let's-see-if-i-don't-let-it-slip-out, for example.

what difference does it make?

none.

playing with myself

if i can't even do something as simple as fooling myself, how can i expect to fool someone else?naïve, that's what i am.

circumstances

there are some people, who i consider as friends now, from whom i will never hear anything ever again. it's somewhat sad that circumstances made it this way. but i suppose this is what they call life, isn't it?

phylosophy out of a friend's messenger nickname (XIX)

the greatest glory doesn't come from standing, but from raising after we fall. glory? there is no glory in standing or faling. like moloch, a main character in the antioch chronicles serie said, each battle is simply a struggle for survival. there is no honour or glory to be won in it. there is only the hallow victory of chosing who shall live and who shall die each time. and, truth be told, there is no glory in surviving the war. glory lies with the winners, while falling or surviving are the consequences of a defeat. or a draw, eventually - which is a double defeat anyway.

ripped apart

angela: it wasn't a suicide. my sister was a devout catholic. do you understand that? if she took her own life...
constantine: ...her soul would go straight to hell, where she'd be ripped apart over and over in screaming, brutal agony for all eternity. that it? that about right?
angela: goddamn you.

in constantine, 2005, directed by francis lawrence and based on the comic hellblazer

grace

yet sometimes, just sometimes, we were given the grace of oblivion almost instantly. and as if touched by some god, we are allowed to forget, to fear no guilt or sorrow, and to carry on as if we had left nothing behind. pity i was never given such a grace.

routine

the problem is, as time goes by, we get so used to the new things that come into our lives that we easy forget how it was before all that. routines seldom coexist - one overlaps the other, making it extremely hard to get our old ways back. and we miss the smells, the colours, the lights, the sounds that have been present for so long and can no longer be with us. and the world seems so empty, and we seem that there's something missing and we can't find it even when we spend every waking hour looking for it knowing it won't come back. hopefully, it will all be forgotten. in time. the problem is not that we cannot forget, because we can, surely we can. the problem is the way we have to walk in order to find oblivion.

girl chatting

a friend asked me what i meant below, when i mentioned the tips to chat with girls. it's simple - how exactly can one (me) who is somewhat shy (some friends would laugh if i told them i was shy, and my own mother might not recognize me, but hey) "break the ice" and start talking to a girl, who happens to be cute and interesting and all, without making an ass out of oneself? i mean, the idea is not to flirt (well, it might be, who knows, but not now), is merely to talk, eventually to meet a couple of times, i don't know, the future is veiled and that's something good about it. truth be told, the only problem here is my lack of self-confidence, something that i have since forever and that i'll carry to the grave, that's for damn sure. and this text, as a whole, makes no fucking sense at all, but hey, i'm still recovering from the wreckage, and having lunch on the best restaurant in this city always helps. a lot, i might add. and now back to work with me, for i've been slacking for too damn long and still have a lot to do today. cheers!

house? nah.

kinda prefer cameron. jennifer morrison, i mean.

revenge

people once believed that when someone dies a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. but sometimes something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it, and the soul can't rest. then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right.

and obviously, they are right here: regardless of how many great movies are out there, the crow will always be something special. it makes me wonder that someone (can't remember who) has my dvd copy...

aftermath

a somewhat insane weekend finally broke me. i'm getting old, that's it. might tell you one of these days about my adventures in the hospital, when the blog - and myself - returns to the regular activity. in the meanwhile, if anyone has any tips to avoid being and feeling ridiculous when it comes to girl chatting, please let me know. thank you.