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Devious Journal Entry

Fri Nov 11, 2005, 8:17 AM







Listening to: The Mountain Goats - The Sunset Tree
Reading: Howard Zinn - A People's History of the US
Watching: Shaolin Soccer

Dear Friends.... does anyone know how I've come to be a subscribed member again. I don't know if it was an error, soon to be corrected, or a kind gesture. If it is the latter I am deeply grateful to you for your gesture and if it is the former..... well.... I dunno then.

ok... ....

Anyone who gets the chance please do yourself a favour and read People's History of US... it will blow your minds.

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"I suspect writing is a bit like fucking, which is only fun for amateurs. Old whores don't do much giggling."

Devious Journal Entry

Wed Oct 12, 2005, 7:36 AM
It's also strange that by the next day it can hardly hurt at all.

Devious Journal Entry

Tue Oct 11, 2005, 9:43 AM
It's almost funny how much life can hurt some times.

The Man Comes Around

Fri Mar 11, 2005, 3:05 AM







Mood: Moo Euphoric Hangover
Listening to: Bonnie Prince Billy - Sings Greatest Palace Music
Reading: Alastair Reynolds - Chasm City
Watching: Kung Pow - Enter the Fist

I've been listening to a lot of Johnny Cash lately and I have to say that he's one of the greatest lyricists dead or alive. It is not only what he says, but he's the only one that can deliver it. There's a line in this song where his voice just drops ten octaves and you're left with the rumbling thunder through your chest cavity.

I've been taking a lot of pictures as it snowed here. When I finally get through them all I hope to post a couple of interesting shots. Especially as it's rare to see London blanketed in snow.

Johnny Cash Lyrics - The Man Comes Around



And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder: One of the four beasts saying: "Come and see." And I saw. And behold, a white horse.
There's a man goin' 'round takin' names. An' he decides who to free and who to blame. Everybody won't be treated all the same. There'll be a golden ladder reaching down. When the man comes around.

The hairs on your arm will stand up. At the terror in each sip and in each sup. For you partake of that last offered cup, Or disappear into the potter's ground. When the man comes around.

Hear the trumpets, hear the pipers. One hundred million angels singin'. Multitudes are marching to the big kettle drum. Voices callin', voices cryin'. Some are born an' some are dyin'. It's Alpha's and Omega's Kingdom come.

And the whirlwind is in the thorn tree. The virgins are all trimming their wicks. The whirlwind is in the thorn tree. It's hard for thee to kick against the pricks.

Till Armageddon, no Shalam, no Shalom. Then the father hen will call his chickens home. The wise men will bow down before the throne. And at his feet they'll cast their golden crown. When the man comes around.

Whoever is unjust, let him be unjust still. Whoever is righteous, let him be righteous still. Whoever is filthy, let him be filthy still. Listen to the words long written down, When the man comes around.

Hear the trumpets, hear the pipers. One hundred million angels singin'. Multitudes are marchin' to the big kettle drum. Voices callin', voices cryin'. Some are born an' some are dyin'. It's Alpha's and Omega's Kingdom come.

And the whirlwind is in the thorn tree. The virgins are all trimming their wicks. The whirlwind is in the thorn tree. It's hard for thee to kick against the pricks.

In measured hundredweight and penny pound. When the man comes around.

And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts, And I looked and behold: a pale horse. And his name, that sat on him, was Death. And Hell followed with him.

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"I suspect writing is a bit like fucking, which is only fun for amateurs. Old whores don't do much giggling."

A most excellent quote

Fri Mar 4, 2005, 4:40 AM







Mood: Moo smooth
Listening to: The Trilok Gurtu Collection
Reading: Alastair Reynolds - Chasm City
Watching: Hotel Rwanda

The British Censors would like Emir Kusturica to cut a scene in which a cat attacks a dead pigeon from his film Life is a Miracle a typically full-blooded romance set against the backdrop of the Bosnian war. He has refused and rightly so. This is what he said:

"I just don't get it. The pigeon was already dead, we found it in the road. And no other censor has objected. What is the problem with you English? You killed millions of Indians and Africans, and yet you go nuts about the circumstances of the death of a single Serbian pigeon. I am touched you hold the lives of Serbian birds so dear, but you are crazy. I will never understand how your minds work."

I also heard this great song on the tube this morning. I thought I would share.



THE STREETS LYRICS

"Could Well Be In"

Cuz her last relationship fucked her up.
Got hurt majorly, finds it tough to trust.
Looked at the ashtray, then looked back up,
Spinnin it away on the tabletop.
She looked much fitter than saturday just.
She worked in JD's with dan.
Back then I figured she was pretty damn rough,
But she was only wearin her work stuff.
And in these clothes she looked more than buff,
She stirred her straw, sat up to adjust.
I told her I thought it was important,
That you could get lost in conversation.
Chattin shit, sittin in, oblivion
With that person who's your special one.
She said she was the worst pool player under the sun,
But blokes go easy so she always won.

I saw this thing on ITV the other week,
Said, that if she played with her hair, she's probably keen
She's playin with her hair, well regularly,
So i reckon i could well be in.

She didn't look too bored with what I was sayin.
Her hair looked much better than the other day.
She had her fingers 'round her hair, playin'.
I Saw on the telly that's a good indication.
Stood up to buy the next drink though, "Nay."
Suppose that's just our girl's way.
Im tryin to think what else I could say,
Peelin' the label off, spinnin the ashtray.
Yeah actually, yes, she did look pretty neat.
Her perfume smelled expensive and sweet.
I felt like my hair looked a bit cheap,
Wished I'd had it cut back last week.
She kept givin me this look, cuz she would speak.
Was she only friendly, or was she a keep?
Asked her if she wanted the same again to drink.
Started to turn and get up out my seat.

I saw this thing on ITV the other week,
Said, that if she played with her hair, she's probably keen
She's playin with her hair, well regularly,
So i reckon i could well be in.

She said that her close mates all were
Always the most important thing to her.
I said I thought it was a bit more blurred.
She asked what I meant by that as she stirred.
I told her about the money and what had occurred
With it goin missing from the living room, so.
With my best mates all there standin by,
Right where I left it, under their eyes.
So surely one of them might have spied
What happened to my money at that time.
I felt like they were all smilin on the side.
She was like "fair play" she couldn't say why.
She didn't know what all my mates were like.
And I said she just might be right.
Wish I had someone I could always rely,
Someone to get lost chattin to all night.

I saw this thing on ITV the other week,
Said, that if she played with her hair, she's probably keen
She's playin with her hair, well regularly,
So i reckon i could well be in.

As I walked back with more drinks to our place,
She had her phone stuck to the side of her face.
I sat for a minute while she chatted away
'bout somethin with her mom and her birthday.
Played for a bit with the same ashtray,
Thought about things while i sat and waited.
It was nice to chat about the shit in my head,
Someone who just listens to you instead.
I looked at the barman, wiping down again,
Looked at the football on the tv set,
Tryin to look like i weren't just waitin there
For her conversation to come to an end.
I look at my watch and realized right then
That, for three hours, been in conversation.
Before she put her phone down, she switched to silent,
And we carried on chattin for more than that again.

I saw this thing on ITV the other week,
Said, that if she played with her hair, she's probably keen
She's playin with her hair, well regularly,
So i reckon i could well be in.

I saw this thing on ITV the other week,
Said, that if she played with her hair, she's probably keen
She's playin with her hair, well regularly,
So i reckon i could well be in.

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"I suspect writing is a bit like fucking, which is only fun for amateurs. Old whores don't do much giggling."

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