The Sun

Tue, 18 May 2004 14:55:00 GMT

I think I'm a winter beast. I enjoy lying snug in my bed whilst thunderous splashes of rain conduct their chaotic orchetra on my glass. I like to frolic in the snow and sit next to an open fire; my mug full of cocoa, my heart full of love. And the grandchildren sitting on my knee, asking "Grandaddy, what did you do in the war?" To which I give a stern look and reply "Now, now, my dear. During the war I sat complaining about the weather." So courageous and dignified am I.

But now the summer has arrived, and, I don't mind telling you, that I absolutely loathe it. It's too bloody hot. And it brings out a disgruntling level of vanity in all I see. Beautiful bodies, beautiful faces, but are there beautiful minds?

"I'm melting, I'm melting. Water, water." I've turned into the witch in the wizard of Oz, which is frightening because she scared the living be-jesus out of me. Tans and skin cancer, burns and funny turns, the sweat and the fury... help me!!!! I'm melting!

Time for the meta-physics...

I should really write an essay one day on the apparent divergence of the body and the soul in the form of media manipulation (i.e. reproduction of souless, physical form) and the internet/other forms of anonymnous communication (which effectively separate a person's thoughts from their phsycicality). Technology runs in parallel with the philosophies of mankind - a reflection of the self-reproductive nature of consciousness and the underlyingvalues of... er... back to my hole, methinks...

Pandering to the subconscious

Sat, 15 May 2004 09:35:25 GMT

I am human,
Nothing more.
My life is dull,
My mind a bore.

I walk the streets,
And see the glee.
In every face,
That isn't me.

I raise a hand,
And ask for joy.
But all I get,
Is sad decoy.

Questions asked,
But nothing won.
A lonesome end,
Has just begun.

So hear me out,
And help me please.
To find a cure,
For the human disease.

careless_wispa

The Sun

Pandering to the subconscious