Sunday, December 10, 2006


I do not use this blog often enough. Hints are dropped elsewhere about it but until real promotion - ? - this is a secret little space. No eyes, few comments. My own private diary.
Or else, no. So many eyes, here and elsewhere, and far beyond even time.
So I will begin with love. Or the approximation of love. I pinned so much hope, and so much will, on one particular person that their slap in the face has knocked me to the ground. I never wanted to be a burden on any of my friends. Whatever happens they will always be there. It sounds so...I wanted a glimmer of happiness and all I found was my mate's sofa. Damn it, he's worth his weight in gold. Or green, if you prefer. And L, too, who initally calmed me down. No, wait, verb first.

So, yeah. From there to here. If I walk home it'll only make things less better. A storm cloud greys the sky. Maybe I should put money in my account, pay the mobile bill, if they let me, or else I could buy a book for my mate, or a DVD....Dunno, it is a weightless day. You'll find me floating someplace.

Oh I remember something. Bikini Black Special, and the review they couldn't take because it's so truthful and real. No-one ever replies when the reviews are upbeat. It seems The KBC are fine with being told they're really good, and y'r impossible had a great gig too. Those who know me are well aware that my reviews are those thoughts I tie together based on that gig alone. Honestly, BBS are a fairly drab "Lamb at half speed", or a lumpy porridge of remixed muzak. I hope porridge carries that "d".

Pray tell, why do I ask my fingers to chill across these characters?