So much angst I spill all over this place, it's soaked in a dark, sticky concentrate of gloom that has the consistency of tar and the temperament of quicksand. It rained last night, and the most dramatic "all is full of love" moment was had. If only it rained every time I wished for it to. Every time I needed it to.

For everything else, there's The Clash. Sheer bad-ass brilliance.

"Strong passions must either bruise or bend. They either slay the man, or themselves die. Shallow sorrows and shallow loves live on. The loves and the sorrows that are great are destroyed by their own plenitude."

Clickety-Click.

I feel like this cold has crawled into my head, buried a warm hole for itself, and decided to nest in there for the winters.

In other news: Blackberry, Apple and now... Mango?

And flipping the bird at subtlety: This is both amusing, and an inside joke that 66.666% of me hopes, isn't understood.

As an aside: I fear that this blog has started to make too much sense, of late. Here you go. Problem fixed.

If that wasn't enough: I'm starting to believe that this man understood "all things macabre" better than any person who's ever lived. 

But then: There was this.

Etchings by Goya

Instituto Cervantes. 

Los Desastres de la Guerra

I shall not praise the exhibit. Instead, let me just say that what you would have read about, had you  read the piece to be found at the above link, I came unbearably close to experiencing.


Alas! 'tis true. I defiled it by clicking pictures with a cellphone camera. 

Strangely, I read that story after the exhibit, completely by accident. That very day. The Universe has been pulling an awful lot of tricks lately. Sometimes, I wonder. If a "god" did exist, he/she/it would probably be tinkering around with his/hers/its doll house (The Universe), playing out moments like these(and more elaborate ones) with his/hers/its little plastic dolls(us), just to get kicks out of the sheer mind****ing potential of it all. 

And if that still wasn't enough for you: Then you, my friend, are exactly the kind of reader this blogger is proud to have had (and hopefully, kept). Drop a hello, and feast your mind on this piece of work.

P.S. If you seek an explanation: I don't do cliffhangers. I lure with trails of candy and throw 'em right over. Trippy, yes. 

give me a week or two to || go absolutely cuckoo || and when you see your error || then you can flee in terror

Cage III - Free Show

"The figure of Death presides over the front entrance of a carnival sideshow whose spectators watch performers undergo unspeakable degradations so grotesquely compelling that the spectators’ eyes become larger and larger until the spectators themselves are transformed into gigantic eyeballs in chairs, while on the other side of the sideshow tent the figure of Life uses a megaphone to invite fairgoers to an exhibition in which, if the fairgoers consent to undergo unspeakable degradations, they can witness ordinary persons gradually turn into gigantic eyeballs."