Saturday, March 31, 2007
Friday, March 30, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
"With my feet upon the ground, I lose myself between the sounds. And open wide to suck it in. I feel it move across my skin. I'm reaching up and reaching out. I'm reaching for the random or what ever will bewilder me. And following our will and wind we may just go where no one's been. We'll ride the spiral to the end and may just go where no one's been."
Monday, March 26, 2007
There was little I could do, but listen. “Ani, how could he do this to me? After all the hard work I’ve put in, the countless hours I’ve had to wait for him, he still went ahead and… and…” she broke off, a fresh spout of salty droplets trickling down her eyes. “I’m running a high fever, and he... he can’t understand that?” “And, and, what bothers me most is that no one will ever listen to my side of the story now”, she muttered, as she crouched next to me, and poured her heart out.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Friday, March 23, 2007
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Sunday, March 11, 2007
To quote Vishwesh,
"Get this thing outta me.
The corners of both sides come as one and join in to fuck in the glory that is your myth. Motherfucker.
Dry it, keep it a cool place, store it on a mantle, rev it up.
Terror marks the play.
Face me, say you gotta payback, say you wanna fuck me anyway.
Downsize.
Drone out, hack me when I'm sleeping, slit the vein in five ways, heat it up.
Made up malady.
Fade out, keep the blade in a cistern, fucker wanna gyrate, turn it up.
Slay now.
Break one more. Another one.
Tell your story to the constitution. This isn't your agenda to mutilate, you ugly piece of shit.
Hold it, watch it swell and get sore, get another free throw, spit the blood.
Amputate.
Milk it, tie a section, wait up, get another switchblade, cut him up.
Fuck, no.
Bring it, lay it on the table, stab another reject, hook it up.
Dead meat.
Maybe, they don't want to hurt you, they just know it's payday, motherfuck.
Murder."
"Get this thing outta me.
The corners of both sides come as one and join in to fuck in the glory that is your myth. Motherfucker.
Dry it, keep it a cool place, store it on a mantle, rev it up.
Terror marks the play.
Face me, say you gotta payback, say you wanna fuck me anyway.
Downsize.
Drone out, hack me when I'm sleeping, slit the vein in five ways, heat it up.
Made up malady.
Fade out, keep the blade in a cistern, fucker wanna gyrate, turn it up.
Slay now.
Break one more. Another one.
Tell your story to the constitution. This isn't your agenda to mutilate, you ugly piece of shit.
Hold it, watch it swell and get sore, get another free throw, spit the blood.
Amputate.
Milk it, tie a section, wait up, get another switchblade, cut him up.
Fuck, no.
Bring it, lay it on the table, stab another reject, hook it up.
Dead meat.
Maybe, they don't want to hurt you, they just know it's payday, motherfuck.
Murder."
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
What’s common to the tall, hunchbacked kid who’s got a pair of headphones on, carelessly bumping onto others on the road; the forgettable face of the beggar who comes to ask you for alms in the train and the swanky model who’s just stepped out of her limousine, her head moving casually from side to side, as if in a trance? They all seem to be in their own worlds, without a care for what lies ahead, their minds fixated to the last sound they heard. A sound, which seems to resonate through them, giving them hope, a smile, comfort, reassurance, or whatever they seek from it. The sound is what they seek, and music is the form in which they get it.
Music. The most loved five-letter word. Everyone knows it, let alone the vibrant varieties it is known by each and every human being alive on this planet, right from the homeless, who have a song of joy on their lips to the metal gods, who bring it forth with their guitars. Music. It’s everywhere, and you know it. You cannot deny its existence. And many a times, you cannot fight it. When it takes over your mind, body and soul. When the sound you’re looking for comes out and touches you, transposing you to a brand new level, where everything you’d want comes true. That’s when you celebrate life, and the medium of expression it chooses is music.
Music. The most loved five-letter word. Everyone knows it, let alone the vibrant varieties it is known by each and every human being alive on this planet, right from the homeless, who have a song of joy on their lips to the metal gods, who bring it forth with their guitars. Music. It’s everywhere, and you know it. You cannot deny its existence. And many a times, you cannot fight it. When it takes over your mind, body and soul. When the sound you’re looking for comes out and touches you, transposing you to a brand new level, where everything you’d want comes true. That’s when you celebrate life, and the medium of expression it chooses is music.
Monday, March 5, 2007
Sunday, March 4, 2007
Friday, March 2, 2007
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