I have wasted my life


“By being too sensitive I have wasted my life.”
— Arthur Rimbaud

There are days I want to open up and spill my guts.
There’s static in my inner voice. 
If you ask me "How are you?"
I'd say "I'm not sure if I can't breathe
or if I don't want to breathe".
Choked by memories
Tortured by Anhedonia
Paralyzed by Failure
Flirting with  Nihilism
Estranged from Melomania
Lacking Romantic Endeavours
Inside a complete lack of motivation and dicipline
I'm too old to de-fragment myself. It's too late to rebuild, to Push the button and restart.

"Remembrance, like Rembrandt, is dark but festive." 
— Vladimir Nabokov

being nonsense from an insignificant reclusive blogger


Dear You,

My fight with Anhedonia rages on. I win skirmishes but it wins battles. I keep waiting for a reversal, for my brain to give itself completely to the pleasure principle. 

It gets harder and harder to engage my mind in inspiration. The future of my blog is quite uncertain. Trying to make it to 10 years.

My Muse owes me a picture of her in a My Little Pony onesie. This will make me laugh and cheer me up. Anyone who has the ability to cheer me up is utterly important. Be glad she exist since this blog would have died last year if it wasn't for her.

Random Facts
- Turn On: Tartan Skirts
- Turn On: Lip biting
- Turn Off: Any chick over 21 with a Tumblr.   
- Turn Off: A Narcissisitic woman who is also a snob about any subject ( but Especially Books & Music )

[I'm not leaving my bed depression]

Dear You,

This has been the worst year for me. I've been inside a bed bound depression for three weeks now.  I feel like I only have one friend. The only one who calls.  She's a very funny, inspiring, beautiful, sexy as fuck, smart and mischiveious one at that. Alas, she doesn't live in my town. She's been my lifeline ( without knowing it) during this very trying year. I had a breakdown that destroyed the life I had spent years rebuilding. Gone in a flash. I'm back to square one. It's very unpleasant. I'm Fianancially1, Emotionally and Creatively bankrupt. My heart feels so empty. The Holidays are just a dissaster for me ever since my mother died. I long for someone. I'm getting old and it sucks..but there is a light at the end of my bed....I believe IN CHEMICALS.  At least "I'm Still Alive" (this gets carried over to the next post Obvs.)

1 in fact: if this blog ever goes down 'cos I can't pay for typepad: Bookmark achtungbaby.org. I have to back it up over there eventually but it's years worth of stuff and I'm not in the mood to fuck with migrating to wordpress or whatever the fuck. unless one of you wants to do it. 

bad Mood


For years Holidays have not been pleasant for me. I can't even recall the last good Thanksgiving I had. I've been numbing the pain but alas, I woke up fucking grumpy today because in a few days I'll be going through withdrawal and it's a pain in the ass. These seem like ways to preoccupy my mind in one manner or another, away from my catastrophic life. Regardless, I'm in a pissed off mood1 and these are the random things that have irritated me today: (a) assholes who use Twitter like a public Instant Messaging Client and clog up a time line with their ridiculous back and forth chit chat (b) Gamefly did not deliver Playstation All-Stars ( or Persona 4 Golden) in the mail and I'm looking forwards to playing as Big Daddy in the game (c) the fact that "tv show recap writing" is a job is ridiculous (d) I'm only one season from being up to date on Sons of Anarchy and I've gotten used to marathon watching and real time digestion of the show is going to suck (e) Marvel comics decided to fuck up the Spider-Man comics with such a bullshit storyline that if I described it you may vomit on your keyboard (f) there is a person with a flamboyant lisp in one of the podcasts I listen to - so fucking annoying (g) I had some Canadian Whisky and it gave me a g-d damn headache. 

1 I almost wrote "Pissy" moody but I had an ex that would say that word and for some reason it drove me nuts when she did. I recall saying to her once: "Please don't refer to me with any words that end with the letter y". 



being a playlist in unknown parts(posts)

a soundtrack to myself.  to feel one way or another about life. a coded soul status. feeling like I'm in the wrong time line, these things keep me alive.


"...my future wife is probably doing her calculus homework right now..."

“Most people live through the day with this or that part of their mind in a happy state of somnolence: a hungry man eating a steak is interested in his food and not, say, in the memory of a dream about angels wearing top-hats which he happened to see seven years ago; but in my case all the shutters and lids and doors of the mind would be open at once at all times of the day. Most brains have their Sundays, mine was even refused a half-holiday.”

— Sebastian Knight in The Real Life of Sebastian Knight, by Vladimir Nabokov (via)

I've had a terrible and stressful day. I have to move in a few days and I detest moving. This year's excursion back to Austin was a catastrophic failure. I am ruined. Thank Buddha for my Mistress. She called me and I was able to loose myself in our intellectual conversation of secret origins, missing histories and youthful romances. It added some levity to my agitated state. We are both age-gap inclined so I made her laugh by saying that my future wife is probably 15 at the moment and doing homework, she'll find me in a few years when she's 18. I was trying to emulate the same age difference between my mistress and her very lucky future husband. Making her laugh is the best. Even though all you read is my depressive side here, I think she would attest to how funny I am on the phone. Today I realized just how much truth there is to my principal personal maxim: "I like Smart Girls in Short Skirts", being that two of my closest girlfriends are a doctor in training and a lawyer. I should have been a professor. Teaching and introducing "Lolita" to a new class every semester. Annotating "The Dark Knight Returns" for fun as an extra credit project (I tried to do this in High School and I convinced my English teacher into reading the book and appreciating it). Making fun of Dave Eggers and a long list of elitist literary twats. Elevating the prose issue of Detective Comics by Grant Morrison into the curriculum. Obviously Batman would be my hero with a 1000 faces of choice for discussion. Visiting all the places in Canada portrait in Beautiful Loosers for summer classes on the one book that blew my mind open when I was 18. I would be a peculiar professor no? Affairs with students: optional. This is making me want to watch "Wonder Boys". It's the middle of the night and the silence dictates I put the kind of movie that feels like a safety blanket. Something to make me feel better. "Lost In Translation" it is.  

prelude to a deluge (1)

[ Prelude to a Deluge of Posts: Part 1 ]

And I'm working at trying to find a kind of language
where I won't be so easily modulated by expectation.
Kathy Acker

I've druged myself with what I fondly call chemical truth serum. I need relief. My fastidious life has taken such a turn that I just want to dig a hole in the ground and jump inside and cry. Alas, my medicine does not let me cry at all. Any and all "sad"-like feelings get turned into "boredom". Lately I've been thinking long and hard as to why I saved myself. Why did I bring myself back from the brink of extinction? What are all these tribulations leading to exactly? I have to do whatever it takes to avoid self examination.


a waif's siren call


"Finally, from so little sleeping and so much reading, his brain dried up and he went completely out of his mind."  
Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quijote de La Mancha

I wasn't looking and there she was: inspiration inside a monster truck jumper. A little dangerous waif's siren call that I could not resist. I kept going back facisnated by every little detail and escapade. It's not until I was describing her to my muse that I realized how predictable I am. I respect her recorded sexuality, her honesty or need for attention. Any flaws look like diamonds on her.

I'm trying to sleep, nap, anything that turns me off. I start writing a note. I can't sleep until I crafted it perfectly. I'll never know her but appreciate this fuel, this propulsion I felt from her. I need to write her and thank her. I want to share secrets with her. I want to know all her secrets. The spark gets brighter and I write her a note:  I want to tell you how pretty you are each hour of the day. I want to stop wondering if you are wearing cute underwear and just have you show me. I want to go buy cigarettes for you and come back to you waiting in bed naked. I want to whisper dirty things to you in public. I want to play with your hair while you fall asleep. I want to wake you by going down on you. I want to tell you "guess what? today you didn't cry".

I'm feeding off of Creativity to survive. Each post is a heartbeat. It's how you know that I am alive. I was feeling like I was going to shut down. Inspiration felt like something I could not hold or imagine. The menial ecosystem of life gets in the way and ruins my mood. Nothing is going right in my Life. Not A Single Thing. I have to take a moment and try some mental yoga. I aim to avoid a state of emergency. Make a list of the certainties: I love photography. I love women. I love the fall season.
Sometimes it's so quiet here I feel I'm living like a monk. I want to break the silence in the dirtiest way possible. To rebel against things said about me: "he's very nice", "has high morals", "does the right thing", "one of the reasons I like you as a friend is that you've never tried to fuck me".

I [need] joy. I am not mobilizing to find it though. Something keeps me serene. I [long] for a shoulder to lean on. I need to look beyond these walls. Photography is my moment of zen. This leads to Tumblr, a vortex, a black hole, an eternity of pixels.


daydreaming in hypertextuality


“My heart is beating like it’s lonely, like there’s nothing else inside of me.”
Junot Díaz, 'This Is How You Lose Her'

"Its easy to know what you want to say, but not to say it."
Mario Vargas Llosa

"Se escribe para llenar vacíos, para tomarse desquites contra la realidad, contra las circunstancias"

Mario Vargas Llosa


My inspiration is coming at five ideas a second and seven songs a minute. My computer can't keep up. My browsers have fatigue. So many open tabs. I've hacked my brain and created a sort of momentary synthetic hypomania. That's in addition to the obscene amount of Red Bull in my system, probably enough for a heart attack. I have to ride the wave as quickly as I can before it washes away. The posts have been multiplying like little Gremlins today1.  I'm going to finish this which I've been writing for a while in my head ( which means the better more graceful parts are probably gone b/c I didn't write them down ). I actually wrote something along these lines, a long text post, between May and August, in small parts, but it never looked good once I was sober so I eventually deleted it. I kept thinking I could salvage parts of it until I gave up. I woke up on the I don't give a fuck side of the bed today.There's some sort of filter that comes off during my curent state. Everything goes.


I've tried rebooting myself so many times and it just doesn't work. "what I am is what I am, cause I does what I does" as Fiona Apple said. I'm not on some quest to find myself. I'm just stuck with who I am and annoyed with what I can't change. Irritated and full of Regret. I know who I am: a thematic tome of unrelenting desire and failed romances. I'm very hard on myself.


Sometimes I find it offensive that I need anti-depressants to live. As if there's a sort of Natural Law that says we should all be Happy that does not apply to me and chemistry has to keep me breathing. A synthetic existance. Mostly it leaves me bored, with hints of quiet desperation.Pistanthrophobia

There is currently no girl, no woman, no Romantic Interest. Only Lustful daydreams of a mistress. I'm a blank canvass with a drip of red pain falling halfway down the middle. And this painting is stuck on a wall.


I don't pray hard enough for amnesia. I don't pray at all. Maybe that's why it hasn't happened.


I was telling the most Lolita girl I know how much I wish I had a photogenic female friend in this city to take my own photos for posts on here. All my girls, they get married. All the nymphets are now older and having babies. 


Andy is right. I don't want what I can't have anymore. This is a much practical stance.


Well, I'm off to write my first short story in years. It's called "The sexual frustrations of a man without a serial number"

 1 written between 9.20 and 9.22
 *Nishe / I love you / p0und-the-al4rm /wild hearts / I was blank  / i am who i am

les mathématiques de la séduction


The day I see you naked is the day I am reborn. It's not just the architecture that houses the heart I want to conquer, but it's the windmill to my Don Quixote. I don't break promises and I've told you that I'll dominate you with desire and look up as you bite  your lips. I'm feeling clueless but the the margins of my lust are littered with the Leonard Cohen poems I want to leave on your bed every morning. 

I don't wanna talk about

Screen Shot 2012-06-19 at 11.18.27 PM

I'm having a relationship with an album. It feels like an archaic thing from the last century. When was the last time I even bought an album anyways? But tonight I just sat meditating at the center of my living room, the best place to feel the surround sound of this new system I set up at my new place. I sat here trying to forget how deeply disappointing people can be. Anyway, I think this is the second time I've ever listening to a CD on my PS3 and had no idea that it was goinna play it in sorround sound and it's fucking awesome.

[concentration: a miscellany]

+ NPR: The Kills in Concert 2012

Today may be one of those [10 posts]1 kinda of day. Holy (synthetically induced) multitasking, if you could only see how many browsers and tabs I have open among my two monitors. Maybe I'll take a picture of my desk later, although I'm not prone to mess with your ( the reader ) perception2 of how I am on the other end of the screen.

I was a huge fan of this game when I was kid. Leave it to Nintendo to continue mining nostalgia

+ fucking awesome remix alert: Santigold – Disparate Youth (The 2 Bears Remix)
Who Knew Mass Effect 3 Was So Well-Suited To Rap?Preview: League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen: Century

P.S. happy [Angry Birds Space] + [Hunger Games] @midnite day. How about some [Jennifer] for the Hell of it

Screen Shot 2012-03-22 at 11.51.39 AM

1 Where does my love for [brackets] come from? I can't quite place it, but I think around Radiohead's The Bends era I saw their name written as "[r]adiohead" and have loved brackets ever since. in the early days of this blog i used them more often.

2 Speaking of people's perception of me, I seem to have someone "creeping" on me. either that or they just got [really] luck when they asked a question. I wish I knew who they were. I don't mind a creeper, what do I care. ( Mind you, the only people I've ever seen use "Creeping"/"Creeper" were borin in the 90's )

An Anthology of Desires or "drunk on the impossible past.”

Text Rain

Remembrance, like Rembrandt - is dark but festive.

The monarchy of my nympholepsy has lead me here, staring at the last photograph I have of her and wondering if I should delete it. Might as well, being that she has infected my memory just like the others. Each girl was not a wounded bird I couldn't help loving, but actually vultures that devoured the feeling and understanding of Trust from within me.

Your letters got sadder. Your lovers betrayed you. Kid, I wrote back, all lovers betray. It didn’t help. You said you had a crying bench and it was by a bridge and the bridge was over the river and you sat on the crying bench every night and wept for the lovers who had hurt and forgotten you.



Coincidence is a pimp and a cardsharper in ordinary fiction but a marvelous artist in the patterns of facts recollected by a non-ordinary memorist.


 text rain 

in the stars, my brain



I had opted to be quiet. I had nothing nice to say. why be hurtful? Imagine how I felt when you spewed all the venom I held back right at me . If your goal was to constantly frustrate me, you win. I can't fucking find you. I've come to learn that you know how to torture me like the best of them.

“And then black night. The blackness was sublime.
I felt distributed through space and time:
One foot upon a mountaintop, one hand
Under the pebbles of a panting strand,
One ear in Italy, one eye in Spain,
In caves, my blood, and in the stars, my brain.”

 Canto Two, Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov/ reluctantly subject to your disposal... 

(11) when your love is love blown down You must live with yourself


'cause when your love is love blown down
You must sleep so your head can escape your heart

[ Elbow: Love Blown Down ]

I had to tell my friend: even though you met the most beautiful girl in all your years in the universe. even though to you she's the most precious thing...You are now crushed. Give up and accept your permanent melancholy.

 by bexe 

that old prelusion


The First Blog Post I made in 2000 in my first blog:

I am only safety. I am someone you defeated. I am sleeping pills. I am letters. I avoid everything. I'm stuck in the wrong place. I crave I wish I want what I won't write in this line. Nothing is in its right place. This will be the place for digital remains. I need to collect it all place it here and be defined by it.

+ Jeff Buckley: Woke Up In A Strange Place/Acoustic

"How will you love me?"

Hawksley Workman: What A Woman

Dear [ name withheld ],

You did not ask when I fell in love with you. You did not ask why I fell in love with you. You asked "How will you love me?" and I found this as a reply:

From Crave by Sarah Kane, via

"I want to play hide-and-seek and give you my clothes and tell you I like your shoes and sit on the steps while you take a bath and massage your neck and kiss your feet and hold your hand and go for a meal and not mind when you eat my food and meet you at Rudy's and talk about the day and type your letters and carry your boxes and laugh at your paranoia and give you tapes you don't listen to and watch great films and watch terrible films and complain about the radio and take pictures of you when you're sleeping and get up to fetch you coffee and bagels and Danish and go to Florent and drink coffee at midnight and have you steal my cigarettes and never be able to find a match and tell you about the the programme I saw the night before and take you to the eye hospital and not laugh at your jokes and want you in the morning but let you sleep for a while and kiss your back and stroke your skin and tell you how much I love your hair your eyes your lips your neck your breasts your arse your and sit on the steps smoking till your neighbour comes home and sit on the steps smoking till you come home and worry when you're late and be amazed when you're early and give you sunflowers and go to your party and dance till I'm black and be sorry when I'm wrong and happy when you forgive me and look at your photos and wish I'd known you forever and hear your voice in my ear and feel your skin on my skin and get scared when you're angry and your eye has gone red and the other eye blue and your hair to the left and your face oriental and tell you you're gorgeous and hug you when you're anxious and hold you when you hurt and want you when I smell you and offend you when I touch you and whimper when I'm next to you and whimper when I'm not and dribble on your breast and smother you in the night and get cold when you take the blanket and hot when you don't and melt when you smile and dissolve when you laugh and not understand why you think I'm rejecting you when I'm not rejecting you and wonder how you could think I'd ever reject you and wonder who you are but accept you anyway and tell you about the tree angel enchanted forest boy who flew across the ocean because he loved you and write poems for you and wonder why you don't believe me and have a feeling so deep I can't find words for it and want to buy you a kitten I'd get jealous of because it would get more attention than me and keep you in bed when you have to go and cry like a baby when you finally do and get rid of the roaches and buy you presents you don't want and take them away again and ask you to marry me and you say no again but keep on asking because though you think I don't mean it I do always have from the first time I asked you and wander the city thinking it's empty without you and want want you want and think I'm losing myself but know I'm safe with you and tell you the worst of me and try to give you the best of me because you don't deserve any less and answer your questions when I'd rather not and tell you the truth when I really don’t' want to and try to be honest because I know you prefer it and think it's all over but hang on in for just ten more minutes before you throw me out of your life and forget who I am and try to get closer to you because it's a beautiful learning to know you and well worth the effort and speak German to you badly and Hebrew to you worse and make love with you at three in the morning and somehow somehow somehow communicate some of the overwhelming undying overpowering unconditional all-encompassing heart-enriching mind-expanding on-going never-ending love I have for you."

I need this | I need this


"What do you value the most?"
"Someone I love"
E. Hemingway

The Stills: Still In Love

// R.E.M: Country Feedback //

// Kanye West feat. Dido: Say You Will //

You are my horizon | You flood my mind | You drain my heart | You squeeze my spirit | You infuse me with hope | You haunt my beliefs | You congest my memories | You steal my free will | You dance and I tremble | You make me forget myself | You make me want to write poems every hour | Poem [2] is just an abstract rendition of a sexual act using some physics and mathematical terms. | This line, that lacks pain killers, is for designing the ardency of my seduction of you | I resent the formation of my name upon your lips without a trace of compassion | I’m maintained by the mercy of indexed prayers and photographs of you. | These are the lines I wanted to crawl over and whisper to you....

Paul McCartney: From A Lover To A Friend

// U2: Who's Gonna Ride Your Wildhorses //

// John Cale: I Keep A Close Watch //

"Woe to the man whose heart has not learned while young to hope, to love--and to put its trust in life"
Joseph Conrad


i miss you when you are not around

I can't sleep and I just watched a dumb movie filmed in NYC which made me miss you, brunch, walks on the Upper East Side at night, Museums, The Park, Duane Reed runs for random stuff, Coffee shops, your laughter, waiting for play tickets, dancing at night, eating late, trying to sleep when they pick up the trash, and every time I've visited rushed completely into one sleepless blink. So I found a picture I took from my first visit, just to make my Hyperthymesia last a little longer.

temporary and annotated

I'm in my usual Sunday sleepless trance, and I thought: This is how it happens. Should I write about it? or would it be too "The Man Behind The Curtain". People don't really want to know the how's and the why's but someone said "Can't imagine how much research and work goes into it..must be staggering" (never thought about it that wayand someone else says "it makes me shiver to think how amazing you are". Who doesn't like compliments?

Tonight it starts with the end of a three day haze of intense meditation on a woman I deeply adore.

Now to continue the thread where that leads. What song reminds me of her? "Pour Some Sugar On Me" ? Maybe that's just a song I want to sing to her. I find the thread in a Green Lanter Comic Book (#40) in the words of a Star Sapphire:


U2: The First Time/live
Shows me colours when there's none to see 
Gives me hope when I can't believe 
That for the first time 
I feel love 

But that is all irony. Love is not what emanates from her to me. What quote can soften the blow of my disappointment?


I was going to post a picture of my desk but it is a mess at the moment. A PC faces one way, I have nicknamed it "Battlestar". The Mac faces my left. I initially had named it "Alfred" but recently changed it to "Darhma". My desk area is nicknamed "Central Dogma". Maybe my Iphone needs a Friday Night Lights themed nickname so that I have all my tv show nick names covered. Go Panthers!


What's the next move? A declaration. A well rehearsed sililoquie

Sex to forget? to Heal?

SkinskidsdrinkDrinking with my mates?

I don't know what's next. That leads to the end. If it doesn't make sense, its OK. Remember: I'm sleep deprived at the moment.

We gather up our hearts and go


Leonard Cohen: A Thousand Kisses Deep Recitation

<note 2 her/>

Give me one night, a thousand kisses, a well rehearsed whisper during a handpicked song, a dance, a photo, a reading from our bed (think "The Favorite Game"), a map with a heart drawn on your next location, the chance to condense your favorite film into an hour and meet me on the "other side of intimacy".

</note 2 her>

Inspired by the frisky one.

I could never see tomorrow, but I was never told about the sorrow

ByMartin Demiralay
Metin Demiralay

“ If you are sad, ask yourself why you are sad. Then pick up the phone and call someone and tell him or her the answer to the question..."
Miranda July

Diana Krall: How Can You Mend A Broken Heart

Dear [  ] ,
You Said Something; "Your heart only knows extremes. Weird to say it but they are good extremes. To me anyways. Only passion or despair. Call me when you get stuck in the middle: Adoration."

She was Frisky without Apology


I can’t sleep so I’ll just pretend I had a sedulous dream about a smart, sexy and sensitive girl. I’ll apply the discipline she would expect from me to dissect a song. All messed up in my splendid isolation. “An epilogue for you” she wrote. From far away she wants me to cry her name. She listed the “realities that you chose to ignore” and pegged me a persistent outlier. She post scripted “You’re a soul I can download in a minute”. By now my heart is irritated and the weirdness is warm.

Henry Mancini: Piano and Strings
Franz Ferdinand: If I can't have you then nobody can

When I was


When I was 10 I wanted to be Optimus Prime
When I was 11 I wanted to be Ricky Ricardo
When I was 12 I wanted to be Batman
When I was 13 I wanted to be Jim Lee
When I was 14 I wanted to be Neil Gaiman
When I was 15 I wanted to be Bono
When I was 16 I wanted to be Humphrey Bogart
When I was 17 I wanted to be Roger Waters
When I was 18 I wanted to be Leonard Cohen
When I was 19 I wanted to be Howard Roark
When I was 20 I wanted to be Lou Reed
When I was 21 I wanted to be Vladimir Nabokov
When I was 22 I wanted to be Woody Allen
When I was 23 I wanted to be Nick Cave
When I was 24 I wanted to be Tom Waits

find a man that needs you more than I


You asked, "how are you?", but I heard "What scene are you?" so I told you: Brando at the beginning of Last Tango In Paris.

You asked, "who is she"?, but I heard "Who should she be?" so I told you: Whimsical like Holly Golightly,  a tough cookie like Lauren Bacall, heroic like Dominique Francon, supportive like Mary Jane Watson and as beautiful as that one girl, you know, the one who is my eternal weakness.  

”Who do you call when you’re alone
Nobody, baby
Who do you want to be, figure it out and just let me know”
Ryan Adams, “Note To Self: Don’t Die”

"There’s nothing terribly wrong with feeling lost, so long as that feeling precedes some plan on your part to actually do something about it. Too often a person grows complacent with their disillusionment, perpetually wearing their “discomfort” like a favorite shirt."
Jhonen Vasquez

+ Elbow live with BBC Concert Orchestra: "But find a man that's truer than, find a man that needs you more than I."

+ U2 - Original of the Species: "I want the lot of what you got And I want nothing that you're not"

'Cause I can't find the words and I can't find the songs


I don't know if she's been swept off her feet. I don't know what her best date was or what her worse date should of been. I don't know if she is as allergic to the words "soul mate" as I am. I Just know that the later it gets, the more I want to whisper to her. And these whispers would not be benign. 

“That’s the nature of women; not to love when we love them, and to love when we love them not.”

Radiohead: Stop Whispering/live
Ben Folds + Rufus Wainwring: Careless Whisper/live

So do what you must do to find yourself, Sleep, don't weep


+ Damien Rice/Sleep Don't Weep/Live

It was one of the beautiful girls who woke me up. Mind you, she didn't really wake me up. In fact, for more than a week, sleep has been my mortal enemy. Alas, if it wasn't for her I don't know how long I would have remained dormant. How long was I doomed to remain restless is a question I don't have to wonder about anymore because somewhere between hanging a Danish Lolita poster, the silly pajama dances, the cat toy, the love letters, the French, the unanswered questions and a stab at literary analysis, I smiled. That was the first signal that I was really awake again. Now I'm just waiting to sleep.

This is what it's like to study without a friend.
Leonard Cohen, Book of Mercy

p.s. Chers Vous, je vous remercie de mettre un sourire sur mon visage.

+ Tori Amos/Thank You/live
+ Morrissey/I’m Throwing My Arms Around Paris/live
+ Diana Krall/A Case of You/live
Nick Cave and the bad seeds/Love letter