This Love (Not for Sale)

This song is just so you, and just so me.
This song is everything that we could be.
And everything we are, and everything we dream.
And everything that things could seem.

I used to think for a moment there that it referred to the USA, but now I know better. This song is dedicated to a certain place called S...

Yes, it's everything but the girl again.

Do you want to get on in this cowering country now?
Do you want to get on (get on get on)
Or would you be happy just to get by?
The small thoughts of a small town girl
Grew up and wanted to change the world
Will heaven echo back my plea
Or cast it as a curse on me?

Do you want to get on in this beautiful country, girl?
Listen hard to what the big folks say
And you'll believe anything
If you believe what they say of this world
From the orchard to the foundry
From farms to the city night
Everyone cracks if the price is right
Ideals soon begin to fail
God must know by now
This love is not for sale

I'm beginning to port over to blogdrive pretty soon. Find it a much better client. Although less cool. 
  A Love Story (in 350 words or less)

She passed by blankly, searching for little, if not nothing at all. He was a shepherd, looking for a really good time. She smiled vaguely in his presence, and in the little grassy knoll that was to become their idea of the garden of Eden, it began.

He had sworn to be her knight in shining armour, knowing all too little about knights and/or shining armour, just merely that it twinkled and looked nice on a horse in the middle of a grassy knoll. She laughed, her cynicism unabated by the universal declarations of love. Nice, nonetheless, empty. But nice.

Thereafter he remembered little but the sunshine of her smile, the silvery twinkle of her laughter, how she could light up the already brightened day with her presence. There was little joy he could recall before her arrival, and little sadness after they met.

As if no other existence was relevant (although it existed, merely), their lives began again. They made love like flames in the night, and fluttered like butterflies in the day. Oblivious and curiously so, while the world watched and waited by.

And as the Gods would have it, it was not to last. One day she said goodbye, and like any love story, without really knowing why. “It had to be,” said She, casting a forlorn gaze in the other direction. “But why?” cried He, looking lost and loving at the stranger’s face he came to know so well.

“Because.” She said. And left.

And so day turned to night into day and night once more.

After vague years had passed she looked back at whence she came and reflected, “I was like a distant star, and without you I would always be thus. Warming and waiting to cool at your touch. The endless nights would not glow any brighter for me, no matter how much I tried. It was always I, the whittling and waiting star, that was to brighten your day.” 
  All in a Day's Work

one thing i DO like about america, and you got this one first. my friend accidentally pointed to a copy of coraline on the shelf in a bookstore... and!!!!!!! i happened to flip it open and ... THERE YOU WOULD HAVE IT, UNMARKED BUT CLEAR AS DAY ... it was SIGNED!!! and neil even drew a mouse on it which was sooooo cute!!!! and it was exactly the same price, 15.99 retail.

So i bought it. 
  Brief Lives and Scribbled Paper
5 Portraits of Desire

This is me. This is me after being inches away from Neil Gaiman's face, and casually tousled curls less than an arm's reach away. If he looked into my eyes, they would be golden amber I swear.

This is Neil Gaiman's wry humour weaseling its way into my ears. I laughed. Of course I laughed. This is his naturally slightly British air of self-deprecation, followed by a good long hard laugh at the scene of him explaining Harry Potter slash fiction to his Bloomsbury editor.

This is my fascination with his crazy hair. Too bad he's married.

This is me, photos in tow, American Gods and Endless Nights. San Jose, 2 hours away battling American public transport and following a dream. To hear his voice in my ears, to see his hair with my eyes, to watch him smile gently and say, "You're most welcome!" knowing that I've come so far. I just wanted a picture. Neil was so down-to-earth.

And here is me. My feet's not quite touched the ground since yesterday. I missed the last BART and ran for today's. It was a long way to travel, and it is a long way I've come. 
  The Two Wolves

There is a Native American story about a grandfather, talking to his young grandson. He tells the boy that he has two wolves inside him that are struggling with each other. The one is the wolf of peace, love and kindness. The other is the wolf of fear, greed and hatred.

"Which wolf will win, grandfather?" asks the young boy.

"Whichever one I feed," is the reply.

"What if we choose to feed both wolves?" Was a question. And the reply, "We can't. We feed the wolves with our bodies, our minds and our souls. And like everything else in the world, there is only so much to give."

I think we both know now what each of us are looking for. It falls upon us to learn that we have to give ourselves over to true gods now. The gods of our conscience, the tiny gods of ethics and morality. Not the frail and fragile gods of old men in fancy pyjamas molesting little boys.

  I pitched my tent with N's and ended up doing research in which she benefited. I don't know why I'm doing all the work but she's also enjoying the fruits of my labour. I guess the freerider problem is something with economics but I don't know why it's causing me disutility. I'm working really hard to hold on to my job, she's not doing anything and she gets the job too. Life is unfair. 
  Sympathy can run out. Shape up or ship out.

I finally did it I guess. And it's a career move. I hate to see it as anything else, but really, it is a life move, and a smart one.

I really don't think that I won't be going back. Somehow I have the confidence in myself to choose what really is for me, and I know that my final decision will be the right one. It's not an impulse buy this time for me, I know what I am looking for. 
  James Zabiela is from Southampton, UK!

Why why why must the best, cutest, most talented DJ that rocks this century of my life be also from Britain? Have I not moved my tastes and preferences outside that continent or what?

Not just, I think he's a Cancerian too! Aaargh... I should have just reached out and grabbed his hand last night. *shameless rant*

Name: James Zabiela
Real Name: James John Zabiela
Born: 08-07-1979
From: Southampton, UK
euphorica, not real euphoria
metaphoric :: analogously happy

June 2003 / July 2003 / August 2003 / September 2003 / October 2003 /

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