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| Saturday, January 10th, 2009 | | 10:42 pm |
We won't be meeting again on the slow train
This is the very last entry on this site from me. From now on I will post only here. I have resisted all the messing about Livejournal has endured at the hands of its various owners, but, as I warned a while back, it is the childish immaturity of some of my fellow users that finally drives me to quit it. The majority of people who read this blog leave no trace of their interest. They are all mature, adult people. In the extravagantly unlikely case that they should ever be offended by me, they would take it up with me face to face. That will not happen, however, because they are people with free minds. The others are on my ‘friends list’and most of these I’ve known a long time, although, of course, there are some I have never met, and have come to know only through this site. I am very grateful for that in many cases. ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.1) oycaramba, for one, is a scholar and a gentleman, and someone I am proud to have come to know. They are not the ones who’ve pushed me off Livejournal. I am fed up with pandering to those who make out they’re as hard to break as rough-tough toys for rough-tough boys, but turn out eggshell-skinned china dolls when they get chucked out of the pram. I write this blog to let off steam and to engage in debate with adults. If you get upset, start blubbing, cry, run off to nanny and cling to her pinny all because I’ve said a ‘bad word’, well, there are places you can go to really get that sort of thing out of your system, you adult baby, you. And, if that is your kink, I’m the go-to man to hook you up with the right playmates - I know the strict nurses you need. But they charge. And if you want me to spoon-feed you, wipe your bottom and tuck you in at night, then give me something back. Otherwise, hit the road. To coin a phrase, there are two ‘L’s in ‘dollar’ and two ‘G’s in ‘bugger off.’ If you have a free mind and an open heart, then you can find me on blogspot, which is a place for grown-ups. Current Mood:  triste | | Friday, October 17th, 2008 | | 11:18 pm |
Which side am I on?
 Light or Dark? No matter how hard and long the striving to betterment, is there still a deep-seated core of the worse? Am I on Team Clean, or is my entire being but a mask worn by the avatar of evil? The words of a seeress and long-time confidante strike an uneasy chord in my heart. Is she right? It’s not about doing, it’s about being. Are even my very sense of self, my innate identity and ‘qualia’ of being no more than a cloak that wraps a different drummer? It’s all very English Israelite, I suppose... For the ‘Justified Sinners’ of old, to be among the elect meant that nothing they did in life could jeopardize their salvation - not even murder. On the other hand, no amount of good deeds could save those who were pre-ordained to damnation by God. Their blameless lives were of no avail. Am I like that? Hell-bound however hard I struggle to free my demons? “Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers at night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright...” Or is it simpler? Are there still ‘circuit breakers’ tripped to the ‘evil’ position that could be flipped back over? Only time will tell. But do not expect me to be the same again after this one. Be warned. You may well not like what you find. Current Mood:  confused | | Friday, September 26th, 2008 | | 10:49 pm |
Ratmen of Rodencia!
 Many years ago, when I was learning French at school, a teacher brought in a copy of a French daily newspaper. I can’t remember which one it was, but the thing that stuck in my mind was the one thing she urged us to ignore. On the funny pages there was a translation of an old American comic strip. In it, Mandrake the Magician was pondering the dilemma posed by the Rat-men. Of course they wanted to take over the world, as all outer-space bad hats did in those days. Doubtless in the original version there would have been exclamations of shock and horror such as ‘Holy Mackinole!’or ‘By Thor’s mighty hammer’ or whatever Mandrake magicians were likely to say. Rendered into French, however, it all became a lot more laid back, casual even. It slouched into an ‘I-suppose-we’d-better-surrender-now’ Gallic fatalism. ‘Vous savais que ces hommes-rats, ils demandent la terre comme rançon?’
‘Oui, je le sais.’
Oh, have you heard? Those rat-men, they want the world as a ransom. Oh, yes, so they do. How tiresome. There is something a lot more visceral about ‘homme-rat’ too, much like referring to ‘Man-Bat’ instead of ‘Batman’. You get a much stronger sense of these rat-men being, well, seriously ratty. Not having seen any of the earlier episodes, I think another thing that puzzled me was what the hommes-rats had stolen. If they were demanding a ‘ransom’ then, presumably, it would be for the return of something or someone valuable. But if the whole world was the ransom, what could it possibly be? And wouldn’t it have to have been taken away from the world in the first place? So then it would surely be included in the inventory of Planet Earth’s fixtures and fittings when the rat-men take possession anyway? They’d return something only to get it back straight away... along with the whole of the world. A smart trick on their part, I thought, but a pretty dumb piece of bargaining by the Earthlings. It would have been like the Lindbergh kidnapper demanding the entire Lindbergh family, including the baby, as a ransom for the baby. All the same, when I read in the Financial Times today about the deal that George W. Bush is trying to push through the US Congress I was reminded of Mandrake and les hommes-rats. The bankers are rat-men indeed, and their ransom is nothing less than the Earth. This isn’t a negotiation. This is an unconditional surrender... of everything. All that seems to be at issue is just how fast Bush can give it all away. Current Mood:  quixotic | | Monday, August 25th, 2008 | | 3:04 pm |
It couldn't have been anyone else
Your result for The Director Who Films Your Life Test... David Lynch
We apologize now. Future generations will view your life story by David Lynch and not know what the hell just happened. A lot of events occur around you, but you seem to be involved in all the wrong ways. Even you probably think your life is WEIRD. And if not you, everyone else thnks so and tries to tell you but you won't listen. In your movie: Why does that bald lady insist on sitting on that basketball she carries inside that milk crate? Robert Blake will play your grandfather, and Kyle MacLachlan will play your dad. Go see Wild at Heart, Lost Highway, Mulholland Dr., and, if it's in a town near you, his new film, INLAND EMPIRE with Laura Dern. Take The Director Who Films Your Life Test at HelloQuizzy Current Mood: amused | | Sunday, August 3rd, 2008 | | 4:01 pm |
How to turn Gordon Round
How can Gordon Brown improve his image? Well, in short, he can’t. He’s hopeless. He is so far past the point of no return that the reserve tank is not just empty, it’s caved in like a Ribena carton after you’ve sucked out the last drop. As I was saying to a good friend not long ago, I do not believe I have ever heard the sort of language used about Brown applied to any other Prime Minister in my lifetime. The talk of his overwhelming incompetence and inadequacy as leader have been in every newspaper for months, on the lips of his colleagues at regular intervals. Nothing is asked of him except “when will he go?” Not even the most spectacularly incapable of Prime Ministers, Jim Callaghan, attracted this level of contempt, although he, too deserved it. For Brown, not only are the gloves off, the knuckledusters they were hiding are proudly on display. So, what can he do? He cannot win, but he could go out with honour. Given that nothing will improve his chances, he could go for broke - run wild with a terrifying look. For a start, I would recommend that he ditch his grey suits at once. They make him look insubstantial... or should I say even more insubstantial. He should immediately start wearing dark glasses, which he should never take off, not even in bed. He should begin smoking massive cigars, preferably Cuban, and he should blow the smoke in his opponents’ faces whenever possible. He should do likewise with George Bush at every meeting. He should grow a beard and mustache and spike his hair up. He should wear the thickest and blackest of black suits. In short, he should model himself on Orson Welles as Mr Arkadin. There is a superficial resemblance!To every question from David Cameron in the house he should merely smile... and a Gordon Brown smile is disturbing. He should give no answer, ever, but he should chuckle under his breath, in a really evil way. If tempted to say anything, he should he heard to mutter “Yeah... right!” He should take up clay pigeon shooting, using the most powerful handgun in the world that could blow your head clean off. He should start taking cocaine. When a rumour starts that he is taking heroin, he should do nothing to dispel it. He should start taking heroin. He should grow his beard longer yet and adopt a monk’s habit.He should begin an affair with Kate Moss. When, on the eve of the election, a series of horrific murders leave a trail of Polonium 212 radioactivity that brings police straight to No. 10 Downing Street, Gordon Brown should taunt Scotland Yard with his trademark chuckle. He should say: “You’ll never take me alive, copper!” | | Sunday, July 27th, 2008 | | 7:01 pm |
| | Friday, July 25th, 2008 | | 12:34 am |
Miriam Rose gefst aldrei upp
A curious item of Icelandic news that involves mostly British people. Miriam Rose is, it seems, the Swampy of Iceland, although her protest is being studiously ignored over here. Hun segist aldrei gefst upp. I could understand that bit at least. It means "she says she will never give up." Except for the bits when she's talking, the rest is tricky for me. I'm now reasonably able to read Icelandic, but understanding it spoken is the new challenge. Hence my interest in the growing phenomenon of Icelandic Vodcasting. Anyway, quite what it is that Miriam Rose and her friends are protesting about is not made clear - the story is about her battles with the immigration department - but I've a sense there's a threat to the Icelandic wilderness from an industrial plant. Persevere with the Icelandic bit because the interviews switch to English quite early on. Why have we heard nothing? Conspirati will doubtless say the mainstream press are deliberately 'censoring' it, but then again they might not be. One should never forget the very, very parochial nature of Icelandic news reporting, where an incident as vanishingly insignificant as this one can become their No. 1 most-played vodcast item: 'Dangerous approach' I think it says, and as far as I can gather the horror of it is that a car could have bumped into another one... It didn't - but it could have done!! It nearly happened! Careful now! Down with this sort of thing! Current Mood:  blah | | Thursday, July 24th, 2008 | | 8:45 pm |
End of Empire
I was sitting out in my garden the other day, enjoying a cup of coffee, when I saw an extraordinary sight. A profusion of ants were swirling around my feet. Every picnic attracts them, of course, but there was a special reason for their being so busy, I soon saw. Among the workers were larger, winged drones. They’re on their mating flight, I thought. The queen should be around somewhere. No sooner did I wonder where she might be, than she landed on my knee. Six or seven times the size of the other ants, her wings still in place, there was no question who she was. This was a red letter day for the ants in our garden. They were celebrating the fertilization of their queen for renewal of their colony. Well, I thought. What a thing that she should choose to settle on me. She flitted off again and crawled away, off into the weeds. The other ants were still in their frenzy, tootling to and fro in the round-and-round random way they always do. I went in for a moment and then came back out. I sat down again and, to my surprise, I saw the massive queen ant once more. She’s putting herself about, I thought. She scuttled down to the row of bricks I had built along the side of the path. What she was looking for, I could not tell, but her search was short lived. Out of a crack between the bricks, a spider pounced. Quick as a flash, it grabbed the queen and dragged her into its lair. No lion could have taken an antelope with more panache. The minute physical scale did nothing to diminish its drama. A naturalist might have waited months to capture such a powerful moment, but I was the sole witness. I watched in astonishment. Still waving her mechanical legs, the queen lay on her side as the spider sank its fangs into her ‘neck’. I observed only. It was not my business to intervene. Besides, I have a great fondness for spiders. I am a Cancerian, and as spiders and crabs are related they are practically a totem animal for me. The worker and drone ants bumbled around at random as before. Your empire is over, I thought. You should have taken better care. Your newly pregnant queen is dead, and all your descendants gone with her. What did it mean that I should see this? I had just been reading a fascinating book malabar has lent me - The Way of Wyrd by Brian Bates. In the episode in question, a sceptical envoy is introduced to the ‘sisters’ - the spinners of the strands of fate. He is pursued by a swarm of bees, but his shamanic guide tells him the true state of things: “Those bees are the Wyrd Sisters... The Wyrd Sisters have come to loosen your fibres... That will make it possible for you to encounter the spirits by travelling along your personal web of power...” What were the ants for me? They were, on one level, merely ants, but my witnessing of their crucial drama put the events on another plane. I understood. The ants and the spider were the Wyrd Sisters - all female and (in the case of the ants) sisters indeed. They were come for me to show how I can move along my own web of power. How could that be made clearer? The spider sat in its web. I have just loosened my blockages, freed my choked and congealed chakras. Now, perhaps, I have a new path to tread through life. The old dynasty is at an end, symbolised by the defeated queen. My past life cannot replenish itself. It is all back into the web and must be rewoven. Current Mood: rejuvenated | | Saturday, July 19th, 2008 | | 9:41 pm |
They're here!
  A strange story on World Service tonight directed me to YouTube, and indeed the test is on show there. The first thought-control computer game, so it is claimed... although I agree with the scientist they interviewed on News Hour and think a little scepticism is still called for. And, er, Stonehenge? Where the banshees live (and they do live well)? What's that all about then? Anyway, click this link here and judge for yourselves: I find it a bit curious that the action on the screen carries on even after the tester has quite clearly stopped thinking about it. It is nonetheless impressive, if it does indeed show anything near what it would have us believe. The headset even looks very like it did in the Trumbull film. That they are planning to market this soon is interesting, though it does look very beta to me so far. All the same, be ready for the Brainstorm. It's coming! Current Mood: pensive | | Thursday, July 17th, 2008 | | 9:06 pm |
Pop picker
 On a lighter note, I took this screen-grab of an item for sale on the GMX homepage. A new advance? The power-saving, hand-crank, hurdy-gurdy-type Multimediaplayer? Is that the USB port at the top? I have heard of a wind-up radio - was this using the 'get-out-and-get-under' technology of the Model T? No, in fact it turns out that their popcorn-popper had acquired the wrong label, but it's still a wonderful thought. It could be that your iPod may look like this one day! Current Mood: amused | | Sunday, July 6th, 2008 | | 10:37 pm |
I Spy the Spider
As I mentioned to a friend the other day, my fall from bad to worse is actually a happy memory of better times now that things have gone from merely bad to ‘I can’t believe it’s this bad!’ I am like the pessimist in that Russian proverb - the one in which the optimist is the man who says ’Well, at least things can’t possibly get any worse!’ But, I am still smiling, damn it! There has to be a silver lining somewhere and I’ll bloody find it. ‘It must be your energy,’ another friend said, when I recounted my latest catalogue of ill-fortune. ‘I’m sure it is,’ I said, ‘and I’m going to meditate on it.’ Results as follows: “The blockage is in a part of my soul that still carries deep damage, but it is the only remaining part of me that does. I need to coax it to release what pain it still holds onto, but this release may have a violent physical reaction for me.” So, I did a massive purging. I bought some patchouli oil, which, for some reason, I felt was going to help (it did). I sat out in the garden with a glowing brazier of incense and paper, cleansing my aura (that was the idea, at least) then moved indoors to use the oil (heavily diluted, of course). I got to work on the base of my skull and the pit between my shoulder blades. I have been aware of a severely sensitive spot in the little well at the top of my spine. If I ever chanced to press down on that area I would always experience agonising pain. I was sure it was a nexus for embedded trauma. I did better than I expected. I massaged the spot and pressed down. The pain spread out and I was seized with misery. I wept and cried, shook and trembled. I felt abandoned, alone, tortured and in pain. I was a small child again. It left me retching, sweating, shivering. I curled up in a foetal position and caught my breath. I found two small spiders on my legs: one black, the other white. In a dream earlier in the week, I had seen someone kill two spiders. I was furious with him. ‘Spiders are good,’ I had complained. ‘You disgust me! A lot of your behaviour disgusts me.’ So, I guessed the spiders were part of the ceremony, somehow. Of course, I did not kill them. I treated them as kindly as I do all spiders, whom I love. Today I turn up another playing card - this time in a park, well away from any road. It is the Four of Spades. A positive card, with most interpretations appropriately suggesting ‘tranquility after sorrow, recovery from illness, change for the better, intellectual insight.’ Let’s hope! Current Mood: calm | | Saturday, July 5th, 2008 | | 11:13 pm |
Ace 1999
Clearing out my room today I found a carrier-bag full of papers I had forgotten for years. Inside, apart from many long-lost gems, I found a copy of Flipside magazine from February 2000. Inside I was surprised to find an interview with me, which I would have done in December 1999. I had no memory of it at all, but the theme of it was the future of television. The predictions were the purest science-fiction at the time, but now... Well, they're scarily spot on. ‘In ten years’ time,’ I had said, ‘people will watch TV on their personal computers, which will also serve as their hi-fi systems and radios. No-one will be tied to TV schedules any more, because all films and programmes will be downloaded directly to their hard-drives and they can watch them at any time they like. The more you pay, the sooner you’ll see them,’ I said, accurately anticipating the Sky+ box. I went on to predict that some of these files would be playable for a day or a week before deleting themselves, while some would be free and available indefinitely. Thus I had correctly foreseen the short-term download .mp3 and the podcast! ‘People will no longer buy their music from record or video stores,’ I went on, ‘but download them all from the Internet!’ Ouch - as many record or video store owners would say! I was off-track in my prediction that the 3D-DVD would make its appearance (although the reality of the HD-DVD makes it a near-miss) yet my vision of the hologram video did include the prediction that viewers would be able to ‘watch scenes from any angle and even interact with the characters in the drama.’ ‘So I was right about that at least,’ I said tonight, on the phone to the friend who had done the interview (and whose own input must be equal to mine in this). ‘How come?’ he asked. ‘Well,’ I said, ’Grand Theft Auto IV! It looks completely 3D. You can view any scene from any angle and you can paste a photo of your own face onto a character so you can take part in it yourself! Direct hit!’ ‘Unlike you, I do remember the interview,’ my friend said. ‘I remember I got a mountain of mail about it complaining it was the daftest load of nonsense they’d ever read.’ ‘Well,’ I said. ‘Who’s got the last laugh now?’ Current Mood:  'Told-ya-so' | | Wednesday, June 18th, 2008 | | 8:37 pm |
| | Tuesday, June 10th, 2008 | | 5:08 pm |
A turn-up for the book
 While the world economy digs itself into an ever ditch, I feel a ray of hope. It may be a little too early to say for sure, but I do feel that I may have turned a corner at last in my own personal recession. I am not sure it is over yet, but there are reasons to be optimistic. I am full of new, daft ideas, and there is even a hint that the last month spent slaving over job applications had not been entirely wasted. Could things be about to turn? Is my dark night moving into the light, my year of pain and lack shifting to brighter times? Well, no surprise to see there is a card in the road to tell me how things are. It's the Three of Diamonds today, or Three of Pentacles, as they would be in the Tarot. More appropriate it could not be. "It signifies a business proposal or undertaking," one of my many guides says. "Everybody has periods when things go terribly wrong, bad luck, lack of money, disputes and separations... The period of such a run of misfortune is usually three months or three years... So, if you have experienced such a period, take heart if the three of Pentacles turns up... for it can signify that such a period is coming to an end." Fingers crossed! By the way, while looking for a good image to use, I stumbled on this fabulous new Tarot. It is a magnificent piece of work, I must say, full of dark Victorian fantasies, M.R. Jamesian horrors, Doré-esque fantasies, Fading Away fey, opium dreams and the roots of Ur-Goth, but I shall respect their wishes not to hotlink and instead leave you to discover its delights for yourselves: http://www.bohemiangothic.com Current Mood: optimistic | | 11:30 am |
Go back, go back...
 Time was that people in the ignorant Dark Ages used to laugh at old King Canute, telling the waves to go back. How silly they look now, because, faced with the oil running out, protesters across Europe are striking because their leaders aren't following our ancient monarch's sterling example. Gordon 'Canute' Brown should get his throne down to the beach pronto, say our 'fuel protesters' and tell those higher prices to go back down, and command those oil wells to refill themselves with fresh black crude while he's at it. Yes, doubtless our politicians wish they had such God-like powers, but it's interesting to me that the populations now have such faith in them too. Of course, the oil isn't going to 'regrow' if we cut down our use of it. It's not like the magical ever-lasting cheese in the Grimm Brothers' fairytale. Once it's gone, it's gone. As for the other side of this story, the idea that the oil price is so high because 'speculators' are driving it up... I've been worried about this idea for a while. At first I thought it was a convenient scapegoating by the left. But, if we use more than eighty million barrels of the stuff every single day, the amount of money a speculator would have to shell out to 'corner the market' in oil would have to be beyond all belief. I remember a Texan millionaire called Bunker Hunt years ago trying to corner the silver market. He did this by the simple expedient of trying to buy up nearly all the silver in the world. He failed. It is possible to buy nearly all the silver in the world, though, because there isn't all that much of it. Buying up all nearly all the oil in the world, or at least enough of it to cause the price to go up 400%, well, that would take a lot of cash. Now, let's suppose there's some truth in this after all. When the bubble bursts - and it will, just as it did for Bunker Hunt - the short-term effect may be positive in that oil will suddenly become cheaper. But in the longer term, all the gazillions of dollars these 'speculators' have poured into blowing the bubble up in the first place... Well, they're just going to burn in Money Hell. The consequences of such a vast obliteration of liquidity from the world economy is going to be very, very hard to deal with. Far worse than the credit crunch. I was interested the other day to notice that George Soros has cottoned on to this worry as well: Mr Soros will say a crash in the oil market “is not imminent”. But he says it is desirable to discourage commodity index investing – or the “elephant in the room” in the futures market – though not with more regulation.
(Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2008) Current Mood:  worried | | 10:48 am |
No more dead-beat rats
An exciting science story that so-far, oddly, seems to be breaking in the German press in preference to the English language sources, but researchers in the US have found a formula that almost instantly dries out alcoholic rats. The hopes are it could provide a permanent ‘cure’ for human alcoholics. From: http://www.szon.de/news/lifestyle/wissen/200806090960.html[My translation] Researchers Sebastian Carnicella and colleagues from the University of California in Emeryville have weaned rats off alcohol, according to the "Proceedings" of the U.S. Academy of Sciences. The scientists injected a growth factor, GDNF, directly into an area of the brain, in the ventral tegmentale area (VTA), which plays a central role in alcohol and drug addiction. GDNF is usually responsible for the development of certain nerve cells in the central nervous system. The rats were able to provide themselves with alcohol at will by pressing a lever in their cages. After the injection, demand for the drug dropped off in just ten minutes. Since similar processes underly alcohol addiction in rats and humans, the researchers hope they have developed a therapy against alcoholism. The scientists have also demonstrated that, after a dose of GDNF, the animals did not backslide if they got a sip of alcohol after a prolonged abstinence. This result is particularly significant as the high dropout rate is the main problem in the treatment of alcoholism in humans. Current Mood: cheerful | | Monday, June 9th, 2008 | | 6:34 pm |
Give it up!
There’s a curious, perverse blend of ironies in this story, of contradictory mortalities, and the bite of the credit crunch all coming together. Of course, the very people able to give it up are the ones least likely to, I suppose. As reported in today’s SueddeutschezeitungRettet den Stör: Nie mehr Kaviar
Die Umweltschützer haben schon vieles versucht, um den Stör zu retten. Vergeblich. Nun hilft nur noch eins: auf Kaviar verzichten...[My trans] Environmental protectors have tried to save the sturgeon, in vain. Now only one thing can help: giving up caviar. Lower Saxony’s environment minster, Hans-Heinrich Sander, has called for people to forgo caviar on the grounds of saving the species. “Um den Stör zu retten, soll man Kaviar nicht mehr verzehren...”“To save the sturgeon, don't eat any more caviar,” said the FDP-politician in Hanover. “All other protective measures have been fruitless up to now”, he went on... Current Mood: cynical | | Sunday, June 8th, 2008 | | 5:48 pm |
In which the author is maddeningly cryptic
Earlier on today I posted up a book review. I was excited to share it, because it had so freaked me out that I could hardly believe what I had discovered. Why had no-one else seen it before? I took the post down later on the advice of a trusted confidante. ‘Don’t put that on your blog!’ she gasped. ‘Someone’ll steal it! There’s a book in this, and you mustn’t tell anyone about it! I’ve got my Gypsy intuition going on this one - take it down now!’ So I did. I shall have to be mysterious, then, but it is an absolute stunner. I’ve found evidence, incontrovertible, though very subtly tucked away, that a classic, much-loved novel will have to be radically reinterpreted. So radically, in fact, that it will not only never be seen in the same way again, but it will turn from being a charming comedy into... something almost scary. It’s as though... well, imagine you’d been leafing through The Wind in the Willows and wondered, in passing, why you had never previously noticed that Ratty lives on a canal and not a river, but you let that go and read on. Then, say in the chapter entitled “The Piper at the Gates of Dawn”, you spot a reference to “the twin moons”, and then see the sun described as “a twinkling star in the red sky.” Then you flick to the front and see a note on the fly-leaf that somehow you had never bothered to read before - that nobody has ever bothered to read, apparently. It says: “This story takes place on the Planet Mars”. Once you know this, however, it all fits into place. ‘Of course,’ you say. ‘Mr Toad - he’s a Little Green Man! No wonder he’s able to talk! It all makes sense now.’ Don’t worry. That’s not what I’ve stumbled on. Ratty, Toad and Mole are still safely on Terra Firma, but that is the scale of the thing we’re talking about. The book in question is that well known and this is every bit as big a rethink as the one I have just described. With luck, all will be revealed in due course! Current Mood:  nerdy | | Saturday, June 7th, 2008 | | 8:34 pm |
| | Wednesday, May 28th, 2008 | | 1:48 am |
Thought for the day
“Worrying is praying for what you don’t want.” Ram Dass Current Mood: optimistic |
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