Un amor con sombrero y traje grisUn vestido por la rodilla y los labios carmesí,un sueño de vida pasada que por primera vez compartíHemos tenido sin dudaUn tú y un yo en un tiempo pasadoHemos amado y lloradoY ahora hemos regresadoPara seguir construyendo un amor que no muere cuando muere el cuerpoPorque la esencia de las almas enamoradas sigue perdurando en el tiempoY ese amor nunca ha desaparecido de la faz del planeta,Éramos tú y yo los que nos besábamos en esa épocaDonde usabas un sombrero y un traje gris para salir,Y yo mi vestido anís y mis labios carmesíY somos tú y yo los que hoy lo recordamosComo dulces memorias de una vida en el pasadoDesearíamos encontrarnos de nuevo hace décadasPues sentimos que vivimos entonces un gran amor,Y el destino ha puesto esas dos almas del ayerEn dos cuerpos de hoy, que son el tuyo y el míoPara que por siempre hasta morirnos volvamos a sentirlo.Y después de nuestra memoriaAquellas almas que viajan serenas,Encontrarán otro tú y otro yo para repetir nuestra historia…
В отсутствии журнала PLAY приходится довольствоваться малым. Но однако же, как приятно удивляет вот уже второй номер UPS!С точностью могу утверждать, что в редакции компьютерного журнала Upgrade special окопался фэн РХ, потому как уже во втором подряд номере, а именно, в № 11'2009 упоминаются хэды и даже, как видите, есть портрет Йорка.Причем около фото Лили Аллен есть подпись, что это, мол, Лили Аллен, которая не желает раздавать песни даром. А вот у фотографии Тома никакой разъяснительной подписи, кто это такой. Из смысла статьи, посвященной разборкам британских музыкантов насчет свободного распространения музыки в сети, я бы, например, поняла, что это - О"Брайен, который здесь упомянут. Потому что о Йорке нет ни слова, только о группе.Ну или предположила бы, что это Беллами, о котором тут тоже написано.Последующее чтение этого, похоже, становящегося моим любимым изданием журнала, выявило еще одно упоминание РХ. А ведь я только начала...
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When he was presented to the parents in the maternity ward, no one really knew what to say. His arms were far too long and dangled away from his body. His skin was ever so soft but his face was marked by stitching and a great deal of it was held together by buttons. You may find this odd but, disregarding the incredibly unusual state of their newborn child, the couple returned home to prepare for their sons future life.He didn't really fit in at pre-school and the other children tended to take advantage of him; swinging his fabricated body above their heads and using him to clear up the odd glue or paint stain. It took some time before his parents realised that the educational establishment was wrong for him. They spent huge amounts of money to afford their son into the best schools, but that only seemed to make things worse. Now, the abuse was not only physical. That, they knew he could handle. But it started turning into a game of the mind. The boy began to struggle seeing his place in the world.Their son became so very withdrawn and they began to worry for his general well-being. They talked to the headmaster at the school about his problems, and quite swiftly it was remarked that the predicament had been solved. Assuming their son was now free of his torment, the couple began to turn a rather blind eye on the situation. You see, they were expecting another child (a girl) and right then that seemd more important and as we all know it's far easier to ignore one problem and labour over the other. At least right there and then, anyway. That sinking feeling the boy felt, that had been so easily dismissed by all that he could trust before, returned."Why am I here?" he asked himself increasingly often. In a way that fails to concern the amazement of life itself and rather the fact of a pointless existence.The boys life stumbled on and the abuse he recieved only renewed and worsened with each week. With no one to turn to, he could no longer rely on a stable society, or a stable life at all. It was on a Tuesday afternoon that the couples son decided that enough was enough. He returned home took a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer and proceeded upstairs to his bedroom.His parents too busy thinking about the financial complications of having another child.The boy locked his door, slowly closed his blind, crawled beneath his pale bed sheets and took the scissors to his seems. He ran the blades from his chest to his shoulder to his wrists to his neck to his mouth. Snipping off every button with a clean cut from the stainless fingers."What's left of my life?" he whispered to himself. Quite ironic though, how the last thing he thought of was the future and, in the end, the last place he had decided to be.4 hours later, his mother opened the door to the boys bedroom. Calling his name as she did so. The handle turned and as the wooden panel pushed on into the room and the air from inside came rushing up to greet her she came upon the site of her dead child. The woolen knit unravelled until all that was left was a mass of soiled threads.I'm sure you can guess what happened next..It's quite sad really. He only wanted someone to listen. Understand him. But in the end he could barely manage to understand himself.
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After 7months of hatching and growing and feeding these hungry things, yesterday we had an EGG! Woo Hoo! So excited, I'm doin' a jig!!! Upon hearing that we're going to eat said egg, my 4yr old clutched it lovingly & cried, "No! No! we can't eat the baby chicken!" while sobbing. It was so sweet and touching and cute and really quite funny. It took all I had not to giggle at his sweetness while holding him and trying to explain that not all eggs grow into chickens. Unfortunately, he already knows what roosters are for :o)Though this is a kid who can eat scrambled eggs for days, the processes of seeing his chickens become parents has nothing to do with food, even though he knew we got them to eventually get eggs. I dread the day we dress one (eat one). After he was done talking to the egg it was his brothers turn. Once it got back to me, I promptly put it in the fridge.He got over it, for now. But I feel so bad, and I'm still so excited to finally have that first egg that truly I can't wait to eat it.
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Posted by mojo alien on October 24, 2009 at 11:00am
Hmmm... hey, glossed over psychic ego-wound religion be gone. I have some damn hard home work to do before I take a bubble-bath and lose my mind in slap-stick nonsense. Please be sure to tell miss shape-shifter I much appreciate the new dream catcher. The directions are sort of confusing, but I'm slowly learning how to use it. Anyhoo... goodnight, pal. Yeah, I'd shake your hand, but I know you don't exist and all, no offense. Soon we'll surely get shit-faced and talk some endless fiction... can't wait, drive safely.
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Posted by mojo alien on October 23, 2009 at 8:00pm
Whether we like it or not, there R people, friends/family members who dislike each other & feud all the time. So when something good/bad happens with somebody we throw it in each others faces. Some R victims of this sort, some R survivors. I try 2B as honest as I can B & stay on the right path, but I do trip/fall. We all end up shooting ourselves in the foot at some points in life. If we could learn from all this, if we could just be straight with 1 another? We wouldn't fuck up.
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Tracing the thoughts with a fingertipLining the clouds with silverPresent feelings from past mistakesProof that change is goodPerspicuity from a lazy dreamThoughts like jumping beansBouncing off of shady cornersWaking what lies in quiescenceScratching light into the darknessWith a stretch and a yawnFolding what was into what isForming what will be
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Mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, fixer of all things broken, doctor, nurse, tutor, chef, and maid. So many shoes to fill in a day, an hour, every minute. It is a lot when you think about it, and there will never be enough time. Take each day as it comes.Though being all things at all times can wear on you, you only have to be who you are and the rest just kind of falls into place. Though there is always room for improvement, I don't know if we can ever truly be who we wish we were.Everyone I know wishes they could be their own version of perfect, the perfect wife, mother, lover, or friend. We are all but human, and as such, we are perfect enough. All else can be forgiven.
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I know youI know you because I am youI see myself in your eyesI wish I was who you believe me to beI wish I knew me like you know meYou trust because I have proven to be trustworthyYou believe in me because I have yet to let you downYou love because you perceive the good in meI am not evil, but I am not perfectFlawed and broken, am I still beautiful?
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Cool breezes in blowing hairFeeling your skin growing cold in the airKnowing more than you thought you knewThinking of all you should never doIs it really that easy to do what you wantWhen there is a chance that the guilt can hauntThe conscience is strong but the will is weakSitting alone with a tear stained cheekWorried about what ifs is no way to liveLetting things go, it's so hard to forgiveNothing has happened, no plans have been madeSitting here crying alone in the shade
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Vacuum-sealed in cloudy plasticSuffocating by designNo claws to tear throughNo blades to sliceThe coldness of the air seeps throughBut no breath can be takenPeek-a-boo I see youCreepy clouded faces stareKnown yet quite veiled in circumstanceThe harder the struggleThe weaker the fightLight fades as breath strainsWishing for pinholes
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Through the thunder nothing is heardA shadow of a voice imprinted on the mindThe wind howls and masks their screamsCan one's own mind be trusted?Not in search of, but finding odditiesThings that seem senselessThey fill the crevices left in dreamsThere is no help for the silentMind tricks and slight of handSay the words and life is lightenedOne load at a time
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Posted by mojo alien on October 15, 2009 at 2:30am
I am convinced after reading some of Jack Kerouac's works, his spirithas leaped into my childhood soul. I had the "Beat" instincts since the age of 10.
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Posted by mojo alien on October 14, 2009 at 5:30am
We're artists, we're inhuman, we are of this earth, not of man or governments & their principles. Anything less shuddering, less terrifying, less mad, less intoxicated, less contaminating, is not art. The rest is counterfeit. The rest is human. (Henry Miller)
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Любопытно, но в последнее время упоминание Radiohead в самых разных журналах участилось. Не берём в счёт сентябрьский (ээээ, или октябрьский, кто помнит?) номер "Ровесника" - там имя Йорка и РХ упоминаются всуе и не всуе раз пять точно. А вот в "РР" № 37 от 01/10/09 название группы встречается аж дважды и в разных материалах, один из которых - интервью с Александром Васильевым по поводу выхода нового сплиновского альбома (как оказалось, Радиоголовы - его любимейшая группа! Что совершенно не отражается на его творчестве последних лет). А второй - это интервью с гендиректором EMI в России Сергеем Балдиным.Не могу не процитировать ответ на реплику интервьюера: "В последнее время появилась еще такая практика: альбом выкладывается в интернете бесплатно, а слушателей просят заплатить артистам, кто сколько захочет".Собственно ответ:С русской ментальностью это не работает. Мы выпустили альбом Петра Налича и провели акцию: каждый мог скачать альбом бесплатно или заплатить, сколько не жалко. В результате то ли пятнадцать, то ли двадцать тысяч рублей заплатила наша страна любимому музыканту, у которого более трех миллионов просмотров его видеоролика на YouTube. Группа Radiohead выложила свой альбом в интернете на идентичных условиях — и собрала два миллиона долларов.Как говорицца, я падстулом, ржунимагу и Bazinga!, господа! Налич после такого сравнения просто обязан проставиться перед господином Балдиным.И на закуску - Upgrade special № 10"09. Вот уж где не ждала встретить хэдов! В статье "Цифровой этикет. Новые правила хорошего тона для культурных людей" в разделе "Не прочесывайте Google перед первым свиданием" (кстати, в этом же номере отличный материал о Гу и о Бри) читаем:"Узнав перед первым свиданием, что ваша будущая подруга не любит Radiohead, а вовсе слушает певицу Свету, вы можете зарубить на корню чудесное чувство прежде , чем оно успеет начаться.Хотя, с другой стороны, певица Света...."
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Ah, Thank - insert common deity - ! I thought it was about credibility, I am now standing chastened.WEARESUCHABUNCHOFPONTIFICATORS.I will now be found in the shed, sharpening my weapons.Read more…
