apart from aforementioned stuff. anything 'alternative i guess.. i ride a bike too .. dont drive.. i love animals and have a pet snake and a cat.
friends.. interesting people who could become such i s'pose.. any age .. any sort.. just bring an open mind.
mainly alt rock i suppose.. placebo.. Mew .. smashing pumkins.. pulp.. pixies .. breeders.. verve .. kinda thing. been known to listen to blues and some old jazz.. even like pop stuff occasionally.. classical too .. and opera.. it varies.. mood etc
never can think of any.. hmm.. whistle down the wind.. lord of the rings..pulp fiction .. lamb.. bambi.. wuthering heights (original) .. Titanic.. The Bear.. Green mile.. anything with johnny depp especially those directed by tim burton.. spirited away .. A beautiful mind.. the pit and the pendulum..
dont watch it.. unless theres a decent film on and i am alone ..
love fantasy.. also wilde.. brontes.... Baudelaire.. Anna Akhmatova .. Pushkin.. Rossetti(both) .. Herrick.. Poe .. Yeats
beautiful: Brian Molko, John Taylor, Johnny Depp and Rupert Everett.. cant think of ayone in the public eye that i admire.. from the past.. martin luther king.. the suffragettes maybe.. but its all gone bonkers since then.. wouldn't say I was a feminist.. admire anyone who has stuck their neck out for the underdog..altruism is so rare. Have a huge admiration for artists from all genres.. creativity fasciantes me... Painting, sculpture, music, film .. Not a creative person so its all alien and exciting.. Heres a few snippetts from my fave poets....Infatuation, sadim, lust, avarice possess our souls and drain the body's force; we spoonfeed our adorable remorse, like whores or beggars nourishing their lice. (Baudelaire) You Thought I Was That Type You thought I was that type: That you could forget me, And that I'd plead and weep And throw myself under the hooves of a bay mare,Or that I'd ask the sorcerers For some magic potion made from roots and send you a terrible gift: My precious perfumed handkerchief.Damn you! I will not grant your cursed soul Vicarious tears or a single glance.And I swear to you by the garden of the angels, I swear by the miracle-working icon, And by the fire and smoke of our nights: I will never come back to you. (Akhmatova)Relish sweet traces, Of your lust on my lips. Your scent fills my head, And I still feel your hips. (author unknown)