Youngest kid of six with an inferiority and black sheep complex, but determined that God saves not just his soul to heaven but the remainder of his manic-depressive life, so others won't say he became a Christian and remained a jerk.
i won't be transparent before i'm opaque. and you'll get to know me starting from the small things: who my favourite bands are. what kind of movies i like. who are my heroes.
I’m convinced that when confronted with sincere, real love, the Jesus factor will become obvious. But let’s not plant the cross before we carry it. I’m not trying to con you.
Some dreams are meant to be achieved. I know that. But maybe other dreams are meant to drive us, privately. Never known to anyone but ourselves.
It is a sadness that, when choosing between crying and sighing, will choose sighing. I'd almost say that melancholy is being sad about sadness itself.
On memory and nostalgia
It saddens me when life moves forward and people decide that certain things are worth forgetting.
I've learnt that the word irregardless is filed as a non-standard word in the English language. That's a lexicographer's way of saying it's not a real word.
Crowds are fickle things. So when we stand in the thousands and cry against the present government, do we know who we're actually crying for?
People always want the best for themselves. But I want to sometimes take second or third or fourth best, just so that the loser down the road doesn't always have to come in last. It must feel like shit to always come in last.
On growing old
Leasehold property make me feel sad. It doesn't matter how old the family photos are that you put on your wall. It's your family but it's not really your wall.
I ask you, if God loves everyone, and if God is also incapable of loving evil, how can there be such a thing as an evil man?
On a daily basis
One line quips, like this.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
It's that time of the year again. Late enough so your vision is clouded by the fog of cynicism, but early enough to look at the rest of the year and reassess what you want to fill it with. for me, this means dreaming of a holiday. and today, i wanna go to the westernfront.
i wanna go and be alone in the desert. i wanna see the red earth and yellow rocks and all their purple skies at sunset. i wanna set camp and barbequeue wild meat like they do in the pictures. you know those pictures? those old westerns. rocky mountain westerns.
i want to smell the sand and kick the dust at my feet. i want to squint in the sun and drink out of those bottles. i'll have a horse named whiskey and a ten gallon hat. we'd ride all day into town where i saddle into a saloon and chat up naive redneck girls whose fathers keep shotguns under the counter. i'd make them laugh and leave before anyone starts any shit. and in the evenings, i'll stare at the desert and wonder what kind of life lies beyond the rocky plain.
a city. a job. a girl.
i'd lower my hat and sleep by the fire. the moon looks so beautiful in the desert.
Labels: dreams, melancholy
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