This can usually be found on Twitter.
First time in a long time I've had an "appropiate" dream (and not a "bad" dream, either! A first from since Saturday or something). Apart from the current ongoing family drama, the overall theme seemed to be a general lack of interesting women. My stomach shows no sign of getting better, which is (obviously) worrying - as is the fact that the pain seems to come and go. An ulcer? God, I hope not. Well, on to the day, let's see how this turns out.
Labels: dreams, stomach, today
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A Lyttony of Bulwer-Lytton winners. Yes, you heard right!
Labels: funny, really funny
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... but I think this is really cute: fake Mr. Bean iPod advertisement.
I'll leave now.
Labels: youtubed
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Boredom percolates everywhere; I stare at the screen and hope for starlight. Only the whiteness of the websites appear. One last glance, and then I disappear.
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Well, I was taken aback, anyway.
This post was posted by Unknown at 12:46 am | 1 comments | Post a Comment
Stormy lightning splits lit sky. Now it's calm, guitar calm, television droning in the corner, wonder when the darkness ends, the day will come and another day.
Labels: weather
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Jenny Owen Youngs is a feisty, hyper-sensitive, disease-free singer/songwriter/former girl scout who wants to be your friend. claiming influences from Beck to Jesus Christ Superstar to Britney Spears, her music is an echo of Erin Mckeown hopping into Jeff Buckley's Pontiac, cruising backwoods Alabama red dirt roads and singing along to The Sundays and Nick Drake. Her songs straddle the heart-wrenching and the tongue-in-cheek and say giddyup.
Raised in the lush greenery of northwest New Jersey amongst cows, haystacks, and eastern deciduous forest, our heroine began singing immediately upon exiting the womb. After exploring the flute (elementary school) and the tuba (junior high), Jenny finally stepped up to the guitar at the tender age of fourteen and, as they say, got down to business.
Her current goals include musically causing the hair on your arms to stand up, learning greek, and like fellow jersey boy Jon Bon, seeing a million faces and rocking them all.
She sings a lot better than her publicist writes, I'll give her that.
Labels: internet, myspace, strange
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"A beach house," he said, "doesn't even have to be on the beach. Though the best ones are. We all like to congregate," he went on, "at boundary conditions". "Really?" said Arthur. "Where land meets water. Where earth meets air. Where body meets mind. Where space meets time. We like to be on one side, and look at the other."