Torn between the light and dark. The heathen smiles, the tell tale heart. He hides away, it is his home. His saving grace, he lives alone. The silence cuts so deep within. For all is lost, he can never win. Secrets come and secrets go, that only his heart ever knows. And outside is the real world. The weird and the wonderful. He is afraid to be alone, he is alone. He wants to touch the feeling of her loneliness, to watch her cry is to watch him die. The heart it was the main thing to see and believe, it will do you no harm to call and try for love. Like?
I made it to Bloat. I have arrived.
Prol is so fucking happy right now she doesn’t even mind the anonymous mail that said ‘would you kindly blow me’. To all frustrated people on line: see this? Sit on it. Nothing can spoil today.
Latvia bans under-18s from modelling. You know what? I think they should ban modelling all together.
Stay off the drink, Georgie.
Little things that make you smile. Three years ago, I was asked to write an artist’s press bio for a film he’d just scored. Yesterday, I was sent a copy of his present bio. It’s still the same.
Well, thanks… exclude the prol, why don’tcha… prol, macintouch and sexlog considered harmful on the weblogs.com ‘example’ gif.
My Wacom Graphire pad arrived, but I haven’t got the comp to stick it into yet. ‘Narwal’ says: ‘We’re out of monitors, it’s carnaval and we’ve just moved, we won’t be able to send your computer till NEXT WEEK WEDNESDAY. It is at this point that I like to remember the great moment when Jarvis Cocker sang ‘the Cockroach’ and ended it stamping up and down screaming ‘f*ck you, f*ck you, f*ck you, f*ck you!’