Living on the edge

Smoking a cigarette while balancing on a high-wire. And all that in the name of art. I tell you, artists truly do lead lives on the very edge.

The circle

is expanding. Slowly. Insecurely. 20 steps forwards and a million back (Luckily I started going in the opposite direction lately, so when I take all the steps back, I actually come closer to where I want to be). At times deeply painful. Scary as shit. Mind-boggling anxiety. Dread that makes your body stiff and your mind wet itself. But somewhere deep underneath there is joy. And a belief that one day I will make it. It is hard work but someone has got to do it.

R.E.M. project

With so many bands, how can I possibly decide upon the photo?

I still

like this drum and bass idea with live bass and drums (only this time they were accompanied by a woman playing the tambourine, so I guess it is now tambourine drum and bass)

Some nights

we all feel blue and we hide in a dark and noisy corner, convinced that this is the end.

How can I chose

which photo to post when I have seen more interesting things in a single day than I have fingers on my hands? Well, I will just chose one of them, and you know where you can find the rest, don't you?

They came

in peace, but once they noticed that a bunch of tossers (known to themselves (and only themselves) as homo sapiens) are totaly destroying a rare thing in this vast universe (yup, an inhabitable planet) they decided, what the hell, we might as well save the 26 billion chicken being held hostage while we are here.

Just like St. Patrick's

but in September.

I forgot

just how good he really was.
The five commandments of animalism (amended):
No animal shall wear clothes (if it doesn't own any)
No animal shall sleep in a bed (with sheets)
No animal shall drink alcohol (to excess)
No animal shall kill any other animal (without cause)
All animals are equal (but some animals are more equal than others)

(I really need to reread Animal farm and 1984 - actually thought about writing a sequel (to both) while watching the show)

And some days

you sit behind the steering wheel of somebody else's car and drive (for what seems like miles, oh wait, it was miles, OK, for what seems like tens of miles, oh wait, it was tens of miles, for what seems like hundreds of miles, oh wait, NO, it wasn't hundreds of miles). And you arrive somewhere you haven't been so long that it has aged and turned all brownish and worn out in your memory.