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| 11:58pm 07/06/2005 |
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mood:  numb music: franz ferdinand
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Awakened by Shadows
I woke up to my nightmares But was afraid to close my eyes, Until they haunted my fitful sleep; Until they dragged me, down Through the frightened lake of consciousness; Until I walked soullessly, Alive in the coffin of my body, Buried in their laughter; Until I walked to my own grave, Longed to lie inside it: Walked on because I could not rest; Walked on and lived the dream, The dream of immortality come true, Worse than the nightmares I feared. And their smiles, Their smiles like wolves. I wondered why the Earth, So warm and living, Turned me away. |
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| wow i haven't been on here in awhile.... |
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| 11:22pm 30/05/2005 |
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anyways, do you ever had one of those nights that just kind of strikes you?? On the way home from band last night, the truck missed its turnoff onto 370, so we ended up going right into the middle of farm country....finally, about 4 miles into it, we found a spot to get out, unhitch the trailor, back up the truck, and connect it again. When we were outside, I look up at the sky and realized that never in my life had a seen so many stars. Since we were so far away from any major areas, it was so dark, and we could see soooo much....and we could see the milky way, and there was so much haze in the sky...it was just incredible...i kind of wish i had been able to share that moment with someone (i'm sure a few of you know who i'm talking about), but even alone, it was simply amazing. Then, as we were heading back down 104, i looked out the front and saw a shooting star go right from the top area of my view all the way to the horizon...again, it was incredible. What a night. |
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| 06:50pm 16/02/2005 |
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mood:  contemplative music: system of a down
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Ever since Monday I've had this feeling that something's changed, but I never realised it until today. I just thought about Monday and compared it to Sunday, and thought, 'Hang on, what's different?'
And I can't figure it out. I'm not sure whether it's my perception that's changed or the world. It's not a change that's actually tangible. In fact, it's extremely abstract. I can't describe it. Here's a comparison: You're listening to a CD and then you think of another CD by the same artist. And although, normally, the general style is the same, the CD itself has a different feeling. You might think of it in terms of a colour, a mood, whatever, but there's a difference which you can't describe and a mood which you can't capture. And that's how I feel about the world at the moment.
On the other hand, I get this a lot. It's a feeling of something about to happen ... and normally it's just inspiration for a new book, which is nothing special. I get that all the time, although not usually accompanied by this strangeness.
Oh well. I guess I'll find out sooner or later. |
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| Sitting on a cloud... |
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| 11:09am 10/01/2005 |
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mood:  cynical
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I'm sitting on this cloud here, looking down at everything, trying not to get involved in the pain-planes zooming round my head... I wanna rip this cloud open and find my silver lining, but it'll be destroyed. Typical. You have to destroy the thing that supports you, just to find the good in it. Oh it is a small cloud, but it carries a thunderhead... lightning strikes and I want to jump away and find a new cloud... sometimes I do, but I always return to this one. The pain-planes swoop around like flies would if the cloud was made from jam and I don't have a fly-swatter.
Did people in the old days really see pictures in the sky? Or did they only long to find something identifyable in Milton's 'void and formless infinite'?
Or perhaps we've just lost the true sight... or perhaps the stars don't want to show their forms to us, corrupted and selfish, trying to break our connections to each other, cutting off our souls to spite the people who tried to touch them. Maybe we all live in isolation in our own padded rooms, slowly going crazy. But there's no nurse to give us sedatives here. We'll scream ourselves raw, we'll try to escape and when the door falls down, we'll be too afraid to leave our padded rooms. When will we be free?
Tightrope Walking
I step out into the still air. Below, a crowd - Open mouths, Halted breath, Clasping hands, Hungry eyes... Half-waiting for the slip That would end me. The rope swings precariously. I clutch my baton but it doesn't Help me feel safe here. The sky soars silver and grey, The Earth hard black and gunmetal. I, white-clad, ghostly, Step slowly between. An isolated figure, crossing a swaying, invisible bridge.
And if I reach the other side, All that waits Is a creaking ladder Down, to where They say I belong.
Maybe it's better if I fall. |
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| Good day today ... |
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| 01:07pm 06/01/2005 |
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mood:  bouncy music: linkin park
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Well, good for me, anyway. I woke up at 10:50 after having a very weird dream. I was one of only a few people who understood that the world was in great danger and who could help save it, because the Sleeper was waking. That is a direct quote from the dream. I don't know what it means. I can't remember any more, although I know there was more.
After that, I went to my granny's house for lunch, which is more fun than it sounds. Then I was listening to Linkin Park ALL AFTERNOON and I love them just as much. And tonight I've just had Chinese and now I'm listening to Peter Hammill while talking to my friends on Yahoo. My idea of a pretty damn perfect day.
I know I'm a deeply boring person. |
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| words for a new year. |
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| 12:01pm 05/01/2005 |
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Breathe...
I must breathe... in and out, it's not so hard, really. Funny how you
don't think about it until you want to stop doing it. Funny how you're
do sure a coffin is a prison, a trap, when it's only a symbol of your
freedom.
Breathe, girl, breathe, breathe...
Do you feel the music? Does it reverbrate in you?
Or can you almost taste the fragility of the words in a poem that echoes in your dreams?
Or can you peer past the veil of what they say is real when you're reading that novel which seems to mirror your soul?
Or do you see yourself reflected in that painting, slashed across canvas by an artist who might not have known...?
Or
maybe we're all nowhere... maybe we are reflected in nothing and maybe
when we die, no one will know that our grave is empty. |
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