I\'m getting a headache. And i am getting headaches. Listening to Mogwai. Been painting the fence.

Listening Mogwai is like being able to pick stars out from the sky with your fingers gently. Every movement becoming slow motion grace. Sometimes more like a empty old room with a sense of nolstalgia, like those scenic silent movies of old men sipping coffee in a corner, and then space muddy stars come flashing and swimming in the whole scene. And you are transfered to across galaxies and the empty betweens. The feeling of neglect. Of loneliness. Or demented purposes. Simple lights and pubs and spending money. Light Depression, slow walks, empty streets, and ample time. Termite floor boards. phone calls that have noone on the other side. Aching hours. Self determined favors.

I was thinking about flying kites. And making kites. Standing at the river\'s edge. Taking advantage of the big winds in Tassie. I was thinking of underground bands. The desert. The stonehench. The watering falls with rock cliffs. and Ana.

radio sings.>

\"are you leaving now, my secret lore?...
love is fountain for an honest laife,
another bridge between love and strife,
show me the man that i am supposed to be, he escapes me..\"

Procastinating again. All worn out again. Like a dog chasing his tail. I deserve a little more than this. Feeling a little over sentimental again. Being with her doesnt really help either. Things i wanted to be pissed at her about. She differs. Qing said she wanted to but i wasnt hearing. She smiled at me and told me i lied. I finished my coffee. I took up my jacket and burned a piece of paper as though someone else\'s number was on it. I wondered what i did that for.

I told her \"okay\" and i sat back down. I put a lightbulb on the ceiling. I told her maybe i needed some hot water, its getting cold. I pointed at the clothes hanging on the clothe lines. she asked me \"what?why?i am kinda in a rush if you dont mind\". I thought to myself, i kinda couldnt comprehend too much what i am thinking. Nevermind i told her \"Qing, finish your coffee..the bus is coming anyway. It might just be me, but.... nevermind,i guess ill never get to explain it\".

I turn out the curtain blinds. its evening. there is still much practical things i did not do. Time to get going. To put aside those emotional ties that i have with myself. To stand in the middle of the parking lot.

\"A pessimistic -shizophrenic. Passively neurotic. Self defining. Juxtapositioned. Omnijected. Oxymoronned. Irronically rhetoric. \" Photoshop books cloud my head. Thoughts of suits and suitcases carrying dampened my spirits. Taking the bus to work.Long distant travels. Taking the long bus trip just to see her. Holding those suitcases in my hand. Mundane fillings of time. Cuttings of a pie. still recovering from Laife.

on the radio.>
tears for fears sing.

I had litteral dreams of floating in air and levetation, also having the force in my teenage years. I dreamed i flew around and had mental powers to move things.That was way cool.

Do not Feed. Approach with caution: Will smile when provoked.

a better day. Asian Dub Foundation. backlanes.

tight eyed.quiet walls.tearful lullabies.

football.york park.cold feet.literally.I have cold feet.

>home.walls.Bad weather.a combination for hibernation and Internet connections.


this was my fourth project site.\\Days when the weather was good.