uncommon conversations
i have a new book. and it is unputdownable. it’s a proverbial intellectual buffet.
i’ve collected some quotes located in the “uncommon conversations” page on the right, i’ll keep adding to it, please read it i loved it and i hope you (and you and you) do too!
think i’ve forgot to mention, it’s about religion, and in his own words it’s “no more than a projection of my (norman mailer’s) own egotistical preferences”. believe me, if there’s one person’s egotistical preference on religion you’d want to be reading it’d be mailer’s. he believes in God and while he denounces organized religion, he’s neither atheist nor anti-Christ. and he proposes an intriguing, refreshing new take on the governing forces of our spiritual selves and our universe in general.
i’d kill to fall asleep
i can’t sleep. and i want to close my eyes, and be under no pressure to open them again.
i speak literally, and figuratively.
the city is alright.
i wished i could live the life i was leading. i also kinda dreamt my ears were still ringing.
what if i cried? how would it become easier?
the world was a mess but my hair was perfect
my ears are still ringing due to the premium seating position, and one hour on i’m still high.
no cows in my stone, eh eh.
“the farmers are losing the plot”
ha ha ha in all honesty so am i.
measure of a man
a ‘nice’ man is more often than not ruled by his heart, a truly great one remains grounded always and listens to his head and the logic and reason that comes from there.
thus i’ll never ever be great.
sorry seems to be the hardest word
people always tell you to “listen to your heart”.
but hearts aren’t any good. hearts take what they see of the world and regurgitate most of it towards an unwanted corner, keeping only what they choose to. they listen to no logic, they hear no sense and they fuck up your lives. in fact it seems like they do not give a shit to the entities they belong to, pulling their owners in a way an angsty, hyperactive dog walks its owner.
i know, cause if my heart would listen to my brain more i would be less of an idiot, and more of a happy, content man.
for reasons unknown
i’ve always kinda liked the killers but i’ve never realised just how bloody good sam’s town is. until now.
slouched against the wall..
in a dark recess of a shopping center. two brows tinged with sweat and muscles in twenty fingers furiously overworked. chelsea and manchester united dueling on two four-inch screens.
it’s pretty fun actually.
i’m a spelling bee.
pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis
or silicosis, a kind of lung infection, in short.
glassy-eyed graves
check out the graves from the porch,
go closer, yes, take a better look.
hey do not let the cats out now,
and tell me if the wind’s still blowing.
check out the graves from the porch,
do you see anything stir, like life?
i saw boisterous kids running about,
that young boy’s the husband and sally’s the wife.
and if the bear chasing them was real,
i wonder why the children show no fear.
when you tickle its tummy does it squeal?
or is that its murderous roar you hear?
check out the graves from the porch,
to your left there’s a big and wide field.
daffodils, roses and cactuses abound,
before with the dead the place is filled.
alas, i see that the rain is come,
are you staying on the porch?
i was making my way back in when i thought i saw
persian soldiers on the march.
what were they after? you ask me,
and i guessed the children or the bear.
i close my eyes and fall asleep
while you watch from the rocking chair.
i hear gunfire, i hear cries,
and i could not wake up yet.
i could not bear to, for i thought i loved
the children i have not met.
you shout to me that all is not real,
and i could open my eyes, so i did.
what i thought shocking was there was no one else
around but the brick red wall
and the rattan chair still rocking.
check out the graves from the porch,
go closer, yes, take a better look.
hey do not let the cats out now,
and tell me if the wind’s still blowing.
actually you know what, idontknowidontknowidontknowidontknowidontknowidontknow
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idontknowanything
Dear Roman,
Dear Mr. Roman Abramovich,
I believe that as a fan just like me it must hurt to see our club doing as we are now. As a team we have gone backwards instead of progressing, and our defeats in the Carling Cup Final as well as the FA Cup Quarterfinal were soulless performances, devoid of effort and desire. In both occasions we were unmotivated and half-hearted, and our team were twice turned over by, with all due respect, teams whose personnel are of a far lesser stature.
Personally, I am in no doubt whose feet the blame should land squarely on. Mr. Avraham Grant, our team manager now, has brought nothing new since he overthrew Messiah Mourinho despite his protestations of playing more pretty football. He has no plan B, he hardly has a plan A too, and when things are going wrong he does not have the acumen nor the courage to switch things around. Substitutions have no impact and seem more arbitrary than anything, and the teams he send out show little cohesion and motivation.
If you should ever decide to diplomatically move Mr. Grant to another department of the club, I hope I would be considered for the Chelsea job in the interim until we get a real manager come the end of the season.
My resume includes leading Chelsea to 7 consecutive League and 2 Champions League titles in Championship Manager as well as coaching a College Girls Football Team to 2nd place in the National Championships, which makes me equally or slightly more qualified compared to Mr. Grant. I would work for free if my basic needs are taken care of too, to prove my sincerity. I would only request for a shirt signed by the team.
Yours truly,
Edward Chng, Singapore
my defection is your addiction
i once swore allegiance to the winning eleven franchise, and what that means is that touching any of the fifa games is a big no-no. in fact once upon a time when i had my playstation2, the only games in my sprawling collection were winning eleven 7,8,9 and 10. my long overdue purchase of a playstation portable came with a conscious decision to want to play winning eleven 08.
that is, until, i was coerced to try fifa 08. i’m hooked, the graphics are awesome, the presentation is immersive and while the football itself could do a little work, it is all in all good enough a distraction. i know i don’t use the most glowing terms, but i think me even giving it the time of day speaks volumes.
i’m not sure if this is to be a game review, or something no one cares about, or both. over and out.
and so..
the writing is on the wall.
wow you can type really long statuses on facebook!
oh my god!
“High on Mount Sinai, Moses was on psychedelic drugs when he heard God deliver the Ten Commandments,” Israeli researcher Benny Shanon claimed in a study published this week.
“Moses was probably also on drugs when he saw the “burning bush,” suggested Shanon, who said he himself has dabbled with such substances.”
“The Bible says people see sounds, and that is a clasic phenomenon,” he said citing the example of religious ceremonies in the Amazon in which drugs are used that induce people to “see music.”
He mentioned his own experience when he used ayahuasca, a powerful psychotropic plant, during a religious ceremony in Brazil’s Amazon forest in 1991. “I experienced visions that had spiritual-religious connotations,” Shanon said.
story from yahoo
hm.
simple yet all too painful. unable to summon comfort in the familiarity garnered through experience for there has been none that cuts so close. thrust into the deep end, struggling to keep afloat, to keep breathing, against the rising tide.
sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole,
and like a faucet that leaks, there is comfort in the sound.
and while you debate half empty or half full,
it slowly rises, your love is gonna drown.
which road..
two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I-
wish i had a map.
