Someday, people will want to compose epic ballads about
my life. When they finally get down to it, I figured a blog like this one would make good reference material.
Perhaps, in the extravagance
of youth, we give away our
devotions easily and all but
arbitrarily, on the mistaken
assumption that we’ll always
have more to give."
- Michael Cunningham
of youth, we give away our
devotions easily and all but
arbitrarily, on the mistaken
assumption that we’ll always
have more to give."
- Michael Cunningham
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theunknownsoul - screencaps
Friday, June 18, 2010
Germany vs. Serbia 0-1
THE FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF
1. DENIAL
LIES. FILTHY LIES. KLOSE BEING SENT OFF IS A LIE. THE PENALTY KICK PODOLSKI MISSED IS A LIE. THE FINAL SCORELINE IS A LIE. I DON'T BELIEVE A WORD OF IT. IT'S ALL ROTTEN SERBIAN PROPAGANDA. LOATHSOME OBNOXIOUS PIECES OF SPAM. DON'T BELIEVE A WORD OF IT.
2. ANGER
WHY KLOSE? WHY PODOSKI? WHY NUEUR? WHY GOD WHY? (Quote: "marches off to burn down the serbian embassy")
3. BARGAINING
THIS MUST BE MY RETRIBUTION FOR NOT MUGGING HARD ENOUGH. I PROMISE I'LL BE A BETTER STUDENT IF IT MEANS GERMANY NEVER HAVE TO LOSE ANOTHER FOOTBALL MATCH AGAIN.
4. DEPRESSION
GERMANY DD; *WEEPS* AND THEIR OPENING GAME WAS SO PROMISING TOO. *SOBS INCOHERENTLY* *goes off to compile a playlist full of sad feelings*
5. ACCEPTANCE
THIS ISN'T THE END. GERMANY ARE GOING TO WIN THEIR LAST MATCH OF THE GROUP STAGES 5-0. AND AUSTRALIA ARE GOING TO KICK SERBIAN ARSE (THE IRONY).
THE FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF
1. DENIAL
LIES. FILTHY LIES. KLOSE BEING SENT OFF IS A LIE. THE PENALTY KICK PODOLSKI MISSED IS A LIE. THE FINAL SCORELINE IS A LIE. I DON'T BELIEVE A WORD OF IT. IT'S ALL ROTTEN SERBIAN PROPAGANDA. LOATHSOME OBNOXIOUS PIECES OF SPAM. DON'T BELIEVE A WORD OF IT.
2. ANGER
WHY KLOSE? WHY PODOSKI? WHY NUEUR? WHY GOD WHY? (Quote: "marches off to burn down the serbian embassy")
3. BARGAINING
THIS MUST BE MY RETRIBUTION FOR NOT MUGGING HARD ENOUGH. I PROMISE I'LL BE A BETTER STUDENT IF IT MEANS GERMANY NEVER HAVE TO LOSE ANOTHER FOOTBALL MATCH AGAIN.
4. DEPRESSION
GERMANY DD; *WEEPS* AND THEIR OPENING GAME WAS SO PROMISING TOO. *SOBS INCOHERENTLY* *goes off to compile a playlist full of sad feelings*
5. ACCEPTANCE
THIS ISN'T THE END. GERMANY ARE GOING TO WIN THEIR LAST MATCH OF THE GROUP STAGES 5-0. AND AUSTRALIA ARE GOING TO KICK SERBIAN ARSE (THE IRONY).
Thursday, June 17, 2010
If the fish swam out of the ocean
And grew legs and they started walking
And the apes climbed down from the trees
And grew tall and they started talking
And the stars fell out of the sky
And my tears rolled into the ocean
Now I'm looking for a reason why
You even set my world into motion
'Cause if You're not really here
Then the stars don't even matter
Now I'm filled to the top with fear
That it's all just a bunch of matter
'Cause if you're not really here
Then I don't want to be either
I wanna be next to You
Black and gold
Black and gold
Black and gold
I looked up into the night sky
And see a thousand eyes staring back
And all around these golden beacons
I see nothing but black
I feel a way of something beyond them
I don't see what I can feel
If vision is the only validation
Then most of my life isn't real
'Cause if You're not really here
Then the stars don't even matter
Now I'm filled to the top with fear
That it's all just a bunch of matter
'Cause if You're not really here
Then I don't want to be either
I wanna be next to You
Black and gold
Black and gold
Black and gold
And grew legs and they started walking
And the apes climbed down from the trees
And grew tall and they started talking
And the stars fell out of the sky
And my tears rolled into the ocean
Now I'm looking for a reason why
You even set my world into motion
'Cause if You're not really here
Then the stars don't even matter
Now I'm filled to the top with fear
That it's all just a bunch of matter
'Cause if you're not really here
Then I don't want to be either
I wanna be next to You
Black and gold
Black and gold
Black and gold
I looked up into the night sky
And see a thousand eyes staring back
And all around these golden beacons
I see nothing but black
I feel a way of something beyond them
I don't see what I can feel
If vision is the only validation
Then most of my life isn't real
'Cause if You're not really here
Then the stars don't even matter
Now I'm filled to the top with fear
That it's all just a bunch of matter
'Cause if You're not really here
Then I don't want to be either
I wanna be next to You
Black and gold
Black and gold
Black and gold
Friday, June 4, 2010
I think I'm beginning to understand why people use Facebook.
While I won't be singing its praises any time soon, I will acknowledge how unsettling it is to have people who's daily presence you've come to take for granted over the past 6 months' very existence suddenly called into question.
It all began when, 'Did I make them up in my head in my desolation?', 'Have they finally succeeded in defying gravity, only to fall off the planet?', and other foolish midday musings overtook me one afternoon. I soon began to run little reels starring familiar persons in farcical situations inside the theatre of my mind...
A in a fancy hotel suite in Paris, four French rent boys at her beck and call. B in a village hidden deep within the tropical rainforests of East Malaysia, partaking in tribal festivities (but only after being coerced into donning a party hat, i.e. funny looking tribal head gear). C successfully concussing herself in a freak accident involving seemingly innocuous household appliances, a rogue floor mat and an incapacitating paper cut. D cavorting around her house bra-less whilst belting out the British national anthem at the top of her voice.
Wait, why does anyone even bother with Facebook again?
While I won't be singing its praises any time soon, I will acknowledge how unsettling it is to have people who's daily presence you've come to take for granted over the past 6 months' very existence suddenly called into question.
It all began when, 'Did I make them up in my head in my desolation?', 'Have they finally succeeded in defying gravity, only to fall off the planet?', and other foolish midday musings overtook me one afternoon. I soon began to run little reels starring familiar persons in farcical situations inside the theatre of my mind...
A in a fancy hotel suite in Paris, four French rent boys at her beck and call. B in a village hidden deep within the tropical rainforests of East Malaysia, partaking in tribal festivities (but only after being coerced into donning a party hat, i.e. funny looking tribal head gear). C successfully concussing herself in a freak accident involving seemingly innocuous household appliances, a rogue floor mat and an incapacitating paper cut. D cavorting around her house bra-less whilst belting out the British national anthem at the top of her voice.
Wait, why does anyone even bother with Facebook again?
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
A Word for the Season
"By now you've probably noticed that except when safely contained by quotes, Zampanò always steers clear of such questionable four-letter language. This instance in particular proves that beneath all that cool psuedo-academic hogwash lurked a very passionate man who knew how important it was to say "fuck" now and then, and say it loud too, relish its syllabic sweetness, its immigrant pride, a great American epic word really, starting at the lower lip, often the very front of the lower lip, before racing all the way to the back of the throat, where it finishes with a great blast, the concussive force of the K catching up then with the hush of the F already on its way, thus loading it with plenty of offense and edge and certainly ambiguity. FUCK. A great by-the-bootstrap prayer or curse if you prefer, depending on how you look at it, or use it, suited perfectly for hurling at the skies or at the world, or sometimes, if said just right, for uttering with enough love and fire, the woman beside you melts inside herself, immersed in all that word-heat."
— Mark Z. Danielewski (House of Leaves)
"By now you've probably noticed that except when safely contained by quotes, Zampanò always steers clear of such questionable four-letter language. This instance in particular proves that beneath all that cool psuedo-academic hogwash lurked a very passionate man who knew how important it was to say "fuck" now and then, and say it loud too, relish its syllabic sweetness, its immigrant pride, a great American epic word really, starting at the lower lip, often the very front of the lower lip, before racing all the way to the back of the throat, where it finishes with a great blast, the concussive force of the K catching up then with the hush of the F already on its way, thus loading it with plenty of offense and edge and certainly ambiguity. FUCK. A great by-the-bootstrap prayer or curse if you prefer, depending on how you look at it, or use it, suited perfectly for hurling at the skies or at the world, or sometimes, if said just right, for uttering with enough love and fire, the woman beside you melts inside herself, immersed in all that word-heat."
— Mark Z. Danielewski (House of Leaves)