*Best viewed using Firefox
.: Thursday, November 13, 2003 :.
currently listening to: My dad's noisy Hard Drive
If your willing to burn in hell, I'm willing to light the match. It'll be a contortionist act of sorts, it has to be, otherwise things would be no different.
Time is flying, the last week has zipped by to the point where I still beleive tommorow to be tuesday. The term is almost up at school, bless the trimester and the person who came up with them.
Haven't been writing much lately, I seem to go through phases where I write non stop for long periods of time, then just stop for a few weeks.
Two thing's I'd like to point out as being good: Cheerios Party Mix, and Pocket Pc's
That is All
.: Tuesday, November 11, 2003 :.
currentley listening to: Matthew Good Band -- Advertising on Police Cars
Chalk one up for me folks, and possibly Dan-O, though I don't think he deserves the credit.
If that made absolutely no sense to you, then your not alone, it made no sense to me either, but thats the kind of mood i'm in at the moment. A wonderful non-sensical type of mood whereby the inane becomes nane, and the pointless threatens to poke out your eye.
Twists twists and more twists. Twists make the world go round, make the world an intresting place, make the world a horrific place, make the world a wonderful place, make the world a dangerous place, twists make the world, twists break the world.
Righty then. The dangerous literary endeavours of an underslept computer engineering student shall continue. You'll have to reserve your copies now though, the imaginary demand is astounding.
.: Sunday, November 09, 2003 :.
Accomplished
Reach for the stars,
your dreams are in grasp,
ready the future,
for tommorows at last.
Cummulative years,
investments of life,
gain your desire,
be rid of your strife.
look back at it all,
and know its all right,
worth what you gave it,
when brought to the light.
Smile in the background,
take a bow to the crowd,
defy odds against you,
and for that be proud.
You are to yourself,
and thats all that matters,
the stars don't choose winners,
they leave them in tatters.
|
