In brief. ~1963 is finished.
(privacy/paranoia issues_)

But it was too hard for me to just walk away (which is probably why I should have_) so there is another journal.

If for some reason [?] you'd like to know where it is leave a comment, drop a line. Something. And I'll get back to you.

Au revoir. '63 was a trip.

Powercut. 0212 approx_in the middle of a fantastic [slight exaggeration] photoshop session and Chaos Sanctuary/Nightmare/Paladin expedition. Mr Casablancas modifies and 1 level + (truckloads) demon kills lost. Candle scented air.

But previously;;;;;;;; a barbecue under the setting sun. The happy family playing that usually makes me sick. Pitch Black ( Read more... )

You are Thom Yorke, the lead singer of Radiohead, the lead songwriter of Radiohead, and you are not afraid of computers if you stand over them with a hammer.

You have the voice of God although you have eyes that can move independently of each other, and you have a love/hate relationship with the media. You tend to get drunk a lot, and your fans ( Read more... )

And on the radness scale I am a lowly 1.7.
At midnight I was throwing up out my window.
But To Live is To Die was playing and that was worth it (?)

Feeling sick feeling green. This is what it's like when we work. And I won't quote you because you like your words being thrown back in your face.

I watched Magnolia and I expected something else but it was good. We have short grass and trees that don't let up with the wind. Cleaning out the closets and the unpackd boxes I found an old typewriter circa 1957. It's a pale mint green and it's all mine.

I slow it down I slow it down I slow it.

All because it's been too long since any changes. It's ( Read more... )

Getting to the right ( Read more... )

Resolution #1 ( Read more... )

A Christmas Poem.
By Melkor ( Read more... )

Because it shouldn't be so serious. And because I get a laugh this way.

Mm. Christmas Eve. This is my favorite day above the other 364. The anticipation, the atmosphere, the happiness of everyone.

I remember I stopped believing in Saint Nick in Christmas of 87. Only 5, all because of a sky blue bike (2 wheeler oooh) that I'd begged my mother for and she'd denied me; then on Christmas morning it was sitting underneath ( Read more... )