losing yourself
i've rediscovered the purpose of books in my life. i'm reading haruki murakami (of the sheep trilogy) and suddenly i remember why i'm such a book addict. its simple: it allows you to lead other lives simultaneously with the life you're leading now. and other lives and other skins and other minds and other thoughts and intentions and hopes and desires and lust.

a good writer makes you want to write yourself and model your life after his.

keeping cool under fire is what every man should aspire to. with calculated moves and threats analyzed you'll discover that yeah, you can survive whatever shits raining on you.

have i ever mentioned that the best easily purchaseable marriage in the whole world is coffee and cigarettes? the black bitterness of coffee (with sugar) conflicts at first with the acrid pull of nicotine than collission becomes passion where they struggle to become down at the base of your tongue ...

one of the few instances in my life when i was truly impressed by the power of friendship and stupidity: a young punk tries to get all funny with this guy, urging him to fight by pushing at this shoulders and doing the usual backwards-forwards jog to psyche himself up. only the other guy did not want to fight and had no intention of making the situation worse. only because it could since the bully was a known minor gangster and the other guy was just another guy. so things heated up a bit and the bully keeps on jabbing the other guy, taunting him, jogging on the spot in front of him, ridiculing him, and all the while in front of a other people. so what happened? a group of much bigger guy passes by and sees their friend in trouble so what do they do? they walk up to the bully, pushes him down and literally steps down on him thereby successfully deflating his budgeoning ego and his bully needs - they keep him down and after the leave, he is left trembling and kinda weepy.

i guess deep down me and my sister are closet thieves. the other major theft we did was to steal a pack of trading cards we found at the bottom of a tree cleverly (but not too clever) hidden in the deeper recess of the trunk. we suspected the pack belonged to this bunch of kids in the neighbourhood; kids we were kinda scared of. so upon finding the stash we looked at each other, then at the pack, then my sister picked up and we ran like hell. we ran all the way down from the park all the way back home. and then we laughed. we had gotten clean away. again.