Who are we to judge? How will we know what makes us happy tomorrow, much less years from now? We plan for the future and try to secure a life that we can feel comfortable in farther along life's journey, but are we really presumptuous enough to think we'll *know* what we want in 5, 10, or 20 ellipticals around the sun? Why do we even try? If our ( Read more... )

Your heart is brown.

You are an intelligent, sentient horse. You are not in love because you will never find love, for you are the only horse of your kind. Sorry.

What Color Is Your Heart?

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Don't sweat the small stuff kid. And I mean you, not the goats, they're doing just fine.

In other news, the new Dido album is delightfully sparse.

Like Peter Sellers.

Or Scandinavia.

It is a treatise on proper manners concerning instrumentation and arrangement in the domain of pop orchestration.

...there are no words to express...

She is beautiful.

A lot of activity around here lately. I think they're clearing out room for another sheep pen or something, I'm not sure. Further updates as events warrant. Clop.

Oh the wondrous strange and auspiciously analeptic magiks of slumber.

The sun has set and the moon has alighted upon its celestial pedestal once more, and no answer for the perception of impending activity I felt yesterday. Clop. I guess it's back to life as we once knew it; maybe the currents of desire run a cyclical course with swells of emotion without consequence... of reaction without action. I'll sleep it off.

Supposedly, right before lightning strikes your hair stands on end, because the energies in question are already forming a corridor that the strike itself just has to funnel through. I feel like my entire life is standing on end. I feel like something is already here, or something has always been here, and I'm just about to make the connection. I ( Read more... )

...but soon.

This young quartet is going places, just you watch.

Best band in the scene.