WORD (or phrase) OF THE DAY: Herro Foxth!
(This feature is mainly for Esther's gain)
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"Quand vous mourrez de nos amours
J'irai me pendre avec la clef
Au crochet des bonheurs bâcl
Et les chemins par nous conquis
Nul ne saura jamais par qui
Mourez de mort exquise
Que je le dise"
He tried hard to help me. You know, he put me at ease and he loved me so naughty made me weak in the knees.
My "More to Love" figure is desired by all.
Someone to discuss the literary theory 'vagina dentata' with. Preferably a male so I can delve into their potentially homosexually inclined mind using my psychoanalytic skills I acquired when investigating the nature of both short and long term memory. Jonnie McAloon has nothing better to do but read my profile in hope of finding something pleasant about him - Vanity in its most 'double superlative' form.
Under the Memphis skyline.
The last time I saw Richard was Detroit in '68,
And he told me all romantics meet the same fate someday
Cynical and drunk and boring someone in some dark cafe.
You laugh, he said you think you're immune, go look at your eyes they're full of moon.
You like roses and kisses and pretty men to tell you
All those pretty lies, pretty lies.
When you gonna realise they're only pretty lies
Only pretty lies, just pretty lies.
He put a quarter in the Wurlitzer, and he pushed
Three buttons and the thing began to whirr
And a bar maid came by in fishnet stockings and a bow tie
And she said "Drink up now it's gettin' on time to close."
"Richard, you haven't really changed," I said
"It's just that now you're romanticizing some pain that's in your head
You got tombs in your eyes, but the songs
You punched are dreaming
Listen, they sing of love so sweet, love so sweet
When you gonna get yourself back on your feet?
Oh and love can be so sweet, love so sweet."
Richard got married to a figure skater
And he bought her a dishwasher and a Coffee percolator
And he drinks at home now most nights with the TV on
And all the house lights left up bright
I'm gonna blow this damn candle out.
I don't want nobody comin' over to my table
I got nothing to talk to anybody about.
All good dreamers pass this way some day
Hidin' behind bottles in dark cafes.
Dark cafes.
Only a dark cocoon before I get my gorgeous wings
And fly away
Only a phase, these dark cafe days.
I want to open up my own dark café with patterned tablecloths, mismatch furniture and a dusty piano that will only be used by embittered romance skeptics who wish to immerse themselves in a Joni Mitchell-esque songs recalling a beautiful love from a carefree bygone era.
STONE ROSES ARE KING. MANY OF MY FRIENDS DISAGREE BECAUSE THEY ARE UNEDUCTAED.
Similar to music, films can often provoke our emotions. The sadness, happiness, silliness, moralising, the stories, love plots, tales of goodness-overcoming-badness, badness-defeating-goodness, the two-dimensional characters, the vibrant and alive characters, the stupidity, the intelligence, the explosions, the shared glances, the blind optimism, the crushing nihilism, the striving, the failing, the pain, the beauty, the monsters: will be felt by us all.
REQUIEM FOR A DREAM: The film depicts the lives of four different people living in Brooklyn on their quest for satisfaction in life. It shows the direct and indirect effects that drugs and various addictions have on each of the individuals, and then portrays their downward spirals from the hopes of blossoming dreams into the helpless state of moral and physical decay.
Literature is a form of human expression. Many authors use their books to convey their ideas about topics such as society, love, hate, nature, war etc. Their words are symbolic. Writers often manipulate the English language to produce subtle and complex effects to deliberately create a sense of ambiguity that the reader has to evaluate, draw their own conclusions and hopefully learn something from it.
George Orwell showed us the reality of modern (Russian) politics through Animal Farm, and through his cautionary tale, 1984.
And Emily Bronte’s narrative of an all-encompassing, passionate relationship between two lovers that are eventually destroyed by their unresolved love should teach us all to love as we chose, not as others command and that pride has no place in a romance novel.
In the evenings I enjoy retreating to classical literature that depicts beautiful, bewitching romances of a whimsical bygone era. Pride and Prejudice - an undeniable chick flick - can bring so much comfort to an embittered spinster. Time and time again I have fallen in love with “Fitzwilliam†Darcy only to have my heart broken when I remember that he is a fictional character. The same goes for a Mr Gilbert Blythe from the Anne of Green Gables Series, who, without fail, still manages to make my heart smile. Oh if only I could meet a ginger-enthusiastic like him. Right Faith?
"All people seem to be divided into 'ordinary' and 'extraordinary.' The ordinary people must lead a life of strict obedience and have no right to transgress the law because ... they are ordinary. Whereas the extraordinary people have the right to commit any crime they like and transgress the law in any way just because they happen to be extraordinary."
I want to talk to you, I want to shampoo you!
I want to knit you a sweater, Want to write you a love letter, I want to make you feel better. I want to make you feel free.
Kiss me now that I'm older. I won't try to control you.