Medication/ Moderation

Placebo. Love the band.

I shouldn't be blogging now...what with the stress and the weariness and the haze...oh wait, the haze wasn't so bad today. THANK YOU MR CLOUD SEEDERS!!

So it rained last night - oh lovely. I was so happy and grateful when it began to drizzle. Had a very nice sleep. Woohoo!

I have just realised that all things are better in moderation, even blogging. (Too late kan?) So I guess...I'll have to cut down on my posts by next week.

And it's not like I have anything much to blog about anyway. Relief!

Jac was in Subang Parade tonight! She was promoting her new album - sang Gemilang and the cover of Superwoman. Her voice was sooo good, live! No wonder she won Malaysian Idol! (And the acoustics are good in Parade la, compared to Sunway Pyramid.)

Okay. I give up. I have nothing to blog anymore.

Yuvha - this is a stalemate!!

Somebody give me medication for this boredom.

I was alone, staring over the ledge
Trying my best not to forget
All manner of joy, all manner of plea
And our one heroic pledge
I would matter to us, I would matter to me
And the consequences
I was confused by the birds and the bees
Forgetting if I meant it

Baby, did you forget to take your meds?

~ Meds, Placebo

Mr. Bellamy, your position as insane lyricist is being threatened by Brian Molko. You have been warned.

Suddenly there was a not-so-blinding flash of light.

The light of inspiration, baby!

muahmuahmuah

The end of everything and and the beginning of nothing begins -

here.

Don't believe what I told you; what I am going to tell you; what I AM telling you.

In fact, don't believe everything you read.

Fantasy could be truth; facts could be fake.

I could be telling a lie. Maybe.

A simple story starts from - where?

How can you judge when something actually starts? Where can you put a finger on a place and say, Yes, this is where it all began. The story starts from HERE.?

Oh, but you can't.

Things happen, but I'm only telling you a part of them.

So the small part of the story I'm going to tell begins -

here.

A young girl in her teens, somewhere between maturity and plain annoying childishness, decides to write. So she sits, in contentment, before a computer.

She begins to write. She writes about herself, her boring life, her fascinating friends - and many many things important to her small dull existence.

I could dream, she says. I could dream millions.

Did you see that irisdescent stream of sparks?

That was a dream taking flight. A rare sight indeed.

Am I talking crap? she wonders. Does this matter at all?

Perhaps. But how am I to know? This is vague, a lilting dance of suspended words and random thoughts.

It doesn't have to make sense. Everything doesn't have to have an explanation. Even the most important questions such as What is the meaning of being alive? doesn't have to have an answer.

Things don't have to make sense.

They just are - they're here.

And that is all that matters.

bangbangbang

Pretentious gilerrrrrrrrrrr.

Oh well.