"If I just stay in bed, and pull the covers around me; if I just unplug the phone, if I don't answer the mail, then whatever bad news is waiting for me can't get to me. If I can just sleep, and then just sleep some more, then I won't have to deal with it. Not now. I can't deal with it now. Maybe it'll go away on its own. Maybe I'll die and I won't ever have to deal with it"

Call me fishmeal: On being crazy

"The most lonliest day in my life.
Such a lonely day.
Shouln't exist."
System Of A Down - Lonely Day

On the one hand we have:

"Freedom, urge, faith - and deeper he falls
Hatred, rage, fear - the stronger denial
Anger, heat, lust - the higher he climbs"

Satyricon - The rite of our cross.

And it is my right to my own cross.

"Life's no ordeal if you come to terms,
Reject the system dictating the norms

From dehumanization to arms production,
To hasten the nation towards its destruction
Power, power, the law of the land,
Those living for death will die by their own hand"

A perfect circle - Annhilation.

Let me be the man that you hate for always being right, on THIS day.

I usually absolutely hate chick flicks ... upto the extent of really rather wanting to die in a void of entertainment so total and entire it would make simple pimple boredom look like The George Carlin show (God bless his soul).

But my point is.

I like just two of them. I promise, just these two. The Holiday and Stranger Than Fiction.

I know that Stranger Than Fiction might not be classified as a chick flick. But shit man, no one dies, there's no blood, there's no monster, there's no crazy awesome siege, there's no mutants, there's no superhumans, there's no post modern apocalyptic-reality, and there's no prophecy.

So that's my guilt pleasure. Only two ... so Far.

"Body movin'
Body movin'
with the a-1 sound sound so soothing"
Beastie Boys - Body moving

I have a problem with picking urinals.

Vison this; you walk into a bathroom at the airport and it's stark empty except for one guy. He's washing his hands at the washbasin closest to the row of urinals. How do you pick which one to go in?

Ideally, I would pick the one closest to me given that I'm lazy and whatnot. But geez man, like all horrid contemporary loos the bloody urinals don't have walls between them! So I can't go right next to the guy washing his hands there!

Okay, so you go extreme and pick the last one, but then again do you want to be that guy that walks across the whole loo just to go to the last urinal because he's shy? Do you?!

So you say, okay, compromise, pick the middle.

So you walk up to the middle urinal and decide no, not this one, too dirty. Check out the next, nope, not good enough, too much gum in there. Next, nope still not good enough.

And as such you just end up going to the frikin cubicled one.

I hate, hate, hate, hate urinals. They make you choose, and I don't want to.

"They shot, stabbed and bludgeoned nine people to death,
Committing one of the most heinous crimes in history"
Children Of The Grave - White Zombie version

Barber (post-haircut while I'm brushing hair off my neck): Pull your pants up for a second

Me (Pulling pants up): Where's the hair?

Barber: See, isn't that better.

Me (Puzzled, look): Huh?

Barber (With wicked smile): You look way better with your pants pulled up.

Me: What?

Barber: You shouldn't wear your pants down like that? Why do you do that?

Me (Letting my pants slide down to their normal length, showing off a little of the boxers): It leaves more room for the stuff.

Barber: You got me.

That's the last time I go back to that 30 buck haircut shithead. That's the last time I ditch my regular barber because I decided on a split second I needed a haircut. That's the last time I do anything based on an assumption that someone is trying to help me brush hair of my knee.

"They can't stop us,
Let 'em try."
Manowar - Die for metal.

Someone wakes you up and you wake up, but you're too goddamn tired so you just lie there hoping the guy poking you will just realize you're too tired to wake up and leave you there to your peaceful slumber.

He pokes you again, "Sid, wake up man."

You grunt, hoping your friend would understand and leave you alone without you having to castrate him for his transgressions.

He pokes you again, this time accompanying the poke with a shake obviously getting more agitated, "Sid, dude, wake up. We should leave."

You shake his arm away in disapproval.

He pokes you again, this time knowing he's going to get results.

You sit up and open your eyes. You have that feeling again. That knowing feeling that you dreamt something important, something worth holding onto. Something you're going to see six months down the line and go, "Woah! I've been here man". Something you're head is still clutching onto with all it's might, because this one seemed a little more important than the others. This one ... but when you open the palms of your mind ... emptiness.

Nothing.

Plain, nothing.