1) Even though I work in the automotive field, I don't really like cars.
2) I sometimes find myself staring out of windows, with no paticular thought in mind, much like my cats.
3) I would love to go to the Shoalin Temple, to study kung fu. I'd even consider living there for a couple of years.
4) Gay people make me uncomfortable, but only because they're better dressed than I am.
5) I prefer to be bare foot, if I can.
6) I tend to be easily distracted, and not finish thin
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
Pop Music
Having listened to some current pop/r&b music, it hit me. There are many things about it I should like, but I don't. Use of unusal insturments, such as a flute or jazzy sax; or an odd break down. But you know what? I still can't like it. Yeah, some of it is amazingly catchy, but usually annoyingly so. I just can't seem to find a redeaming feature to it.
However, if they ever used a harpsichord, I may change my mind. nothing sunds as sexy as someone stabbing a piano with a harp. And I actually like the harpsichord!
However, if they ever used a harpsichord, I may change my mind. nothing sunds as sexy as someone stabbing a piano with a harp. And I actually like the harpsichord!
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Souls
A crushing darkness descends upon me, dragging me down into my personal abyss. The weight of ages further bending my back, forcing me to bow down at the feet of cruel masters. My hands reach for salvation, but the threads of fate wrap tight around me, binding me into eternal servitude.
How long have I been here? My fingers bleed, but I know not what caused it. I work in this dreary silence, without light, never tasting the fruits of my labor. All that I have is ripped from me before it is even mine. I sense the joys of others, but take no comfort in it. No, I have only solitude.
A bleak landscape stretches before me. I cannot see it, but I know it to be there. My legs are too weak to carry me. There could be salvation, or just sustenance, nearby, but I will not reach it. It is not from a lack of effort, but the chains of guilt and responsibility that hold me fast. I try to cry out, but my lips are cracked with thirst, and my throat parched.
So it is, that I came to be here. Waiting. Wishing for the cold, final embrace of death. An end to this, that which shall never end.
How long have I been here? My fingers bleed, but I know not what caused it. I work in this dreary silence, without light, never tasting the fruits of my labor. All that I have is ripped from me before it is even mine. I sense the joys of others, but take no comfort in it. No, I have only solitude.
A bleak landscape stretches before me. I cannot see it, but I know it to be there. My legs are too weak to carry me. There could be salvation, or just sustenance, nearby, but I will not reach it. It is not from a lack of effort, but the chains of guilt and responsibility that hold me fast. I try to cry out, but my lips are cracked with thirst, and my throat parched.
So it is, that I came to be here. Waiting. Wishing for the cold, final embrace of death. An end to this, that which shall never end.
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