trololololol ]:D
shit i want to do but am probably too lazy to ever accomplish:
- get a sound card for my computer's expresscard slot because the builtin headphone jack is broken
- set up keyboard shortcuts and shit and generally customize the window manager
- set computer to hibernate when battery is low
- take a fucking shower for once
- create systemd unit to connect to wifi on startup
- delete all the useless/random shit on my hard drive
- reply to all my texts and emails
- kill myself
This morning, I unfurled single bed sheets and shiftied to the balcony for a cigarette. Her handwriting. It is something full, which I can hold with both hands. The ink swells my sighs. The book, too, is a singular honour, a significant moment of loveliness.
I am not merely touched. I am groped.
And now I have to reciprocate, to write my wrongs, to strike those ever ready tindersticks of trouble which tumble out whenever she calls, but my concentration is none and my sentences are untied shoelaces.
I read in the newspaper that we must be careful, but that's not (what?) why we fled our safe, warm Swansea semis.
Maybe there's a state of simplicity to which we must return. This is all wayward. My life has the timing of a screwball comedy. I am not happy, always bitchy, never fulfilled. What is it that is missing?
To do:
1. Get dressed and make the bed.
2. Is Dave upstairs?
3. Tidy kitchen and bedroom.
4. Find lost gloves.
5. Find lost gram.
6. Train to Berlin.
7. Call in sick.
8. Speak to Maria.
My To Do list:
1) climbs out teh nether places
2) finds mai minions
3) scopes out mah territories
4) sends minions on evil missions
5) INFILTRATES CEILING!! MWAHAHAHAHA!!!
6) dies liek biggest baddest forum badass in da history of teh interwebz
7) finds nice thots to give good cuddles in basement. bad kitties needs cuddles too.
<3
'Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.'
I was told this is a photograph of the missing Mona Lisa. It isn't, of course. It's a photograph of an empty space of a wall in The Louvre.
To the left is Titian's Allegory; to the right, Corregio's Betrothal of St. Catherine; and above, Veronese's The Marriage at Cana. Are these works particularly bad? Some might consider them particularly lovely. But the lens is there for one reason only, to photograph an empty space, and it will not be distracted by these other works, regardless of how lovely they may be and, of course, the fact that they are actually present.
Am I making sense? I fear I am.