Tuesday, January 01, 2008


Wish You A Happy New Year ♥ ... yellowlane. :)

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[Download (zipped in .wma format) maa - shankar mahadevan]
-exclusively dedicated to xulfee bhai....
just a way how i felt, missed, prayed n shrieked for you last night.

[download (in .rm format) maa - shankar mahadevan (OST: Taare zameen per)]
[download yaad aye woh din -OST: Stranger]


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[i sway o're piya - rahat fateh ali khan (ost: aaja nachle)]
[i stray ]


the best thing is believing in something you can't see but know it's real because you can feel it. i have faith in Him. i don't know if there is anything better. save me. save my country. will You? :)

Everyone Have a Great New Year!!!!


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Thought of the day.... have you ever felt like how you came to be the person you see in the mirror?

i used to think i knew who i was.


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Dance, Recover, Repeat

"Words: Sometimes words aren't enough. In terms of describing a particular emotion or even thought, most words don't seem... adequate. For example, the things we refer to as "attraction" or "fear" or "love," we only do so because those words happen to be the most convenient. There are too many colours and textures and subtleites attached to those concepts to call them by their real names, because when it comes down to it I don't think they even have real names.

Emotions are like those giant sea creatures you read about -- prehistoric squid living miles and miles below the ocean surface, the kind that no human has ever laid eyes on. We know they're there, even though we don't know what they look like or how to describe them--that's why we don't give them names. We can't."

Alasdair Duncan


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The Black Art
Anne Sexton

A woman who writes feels too much,
those trances and portents!
As if cycles and children and islands
weren't enough; as if mourners and gossips
and vegetables were never enough.
She thinks she can warn the stars.
A writer is essentially a spy.
Dear love, I am that girl.

A man who writes knows too much,
such spells and fetiches!
As if erections and congresses and products
weren't enough; as if machines and galleons
and wars were never enough.
With used furniture he makes a tree.
A writer is essentially a crook.
Dear love, you are that man.

Never loving ourselves,
hating even our shoes and our hats,
we love each other, precious, precious.
Our hands are light blue and gentle.
Our eyes are full of terrible confessions.
But when we marry,
the children leave in disgust.
There is too much food and no one left over
to eat up all the weird abundance.

Labels: ,

0 lend me some sugar.

 
written by jia.

  ..so lately i have been in this stay-up-till 7am, ungrammatical, nostalgic, talk to myself. paranoid, insomniac, wide eyed, and a little intense. okie maybe little is an understatement. wish i knew if i wanted stability more than the complete range of emotions and melodrama. if only life could be summarized in one simple word...good or bad. -im too young to be stuck somewhere in the middle, sitting on a fence and whining about it. no, i cant write an intro for myself, hence i ask you to read the damn blog. maybe.. you'll find out more through my posts. n in the meanwhile take a panadol handy.. .

tell me you luv me..

Terror Alert Level -

Terror Alert Level

dynasty -

One crow sorrow
Two crows mirth
Three crows a joining
Four crows a birth
Five crows lucky
Six crows cold
Seven crows a secret
Never to be told

mantra -
 

- Lately...

 When I was a child
a story was told
about the devil
and a girl so bold.
He offered her riches,
a fortune of gold,
and lovers abound.
But she lifted her soul,
she lifted her soul clean.
Like the story was told
on a dark country road
the same man appeared to me...

But I reached, I reached
through the rain to the Devil's feet.

Now twenty years later
to the place I return where I scorned the angels
for a passion that burned.
There set in a tree
a knot twisted and turned,
the face of a creature Hell bound.
So long ago
could my mind've played jokes on me?
As darkness sets in,
unavoidable sin,
the truth I try not to believe....

That I reached, I reached
through the rain to the Devil's feet.

-by Azure Ray

 

ode to meaning..

_________________

One Tree Hill - New Zealand.
Dedicated to Xulfee Bhai, who chose to die in the Summer of 2003 Oct 7.

calm before the storm

_________________

Numb by Linkin Park

And i know
I may end up failing too
But i know
You were just like me with someone disappointed in you..
I've become so Numb...I can't feel you there.

moon phase
 

calculated distractions

broken promises ..

said he: tum jaisay doosron say bhaagti ho aur chupati ho .. wohi mere saath bhi kiya....  "  

~*~  current mood ...

                 

coffee files...

'someone once said...

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