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Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Sunday, March 25, 2012







October's child is born for woe,
And life's vicissitudes must know,
But lay an opal on her breast,
And hope will lull those woes to rest. 






Thursday, March 22, 2012

Sunday, March 18, 2012




Some people bring out the worst in you, others bring out the best, and then there are those remarkably rare, addictive ones who just bring out the most. Of everything. They make you feel so alive that you’d follow them straight into hell, just to keep getting your fix.

Karen Marie Moning


Thursday, March 15, 2012

Mourning and Melancholia (1917)


       Reality-testing has shown that the loved object no longer exists, and it proceeds to demand that all libido shall be withdrawn from its attachments to that object. This demand arouses understandable opposition—it is a matter of general observation that people never willingly abandon a libidinal position, not even, indeed, when a substitute is already beckoning to them. This opposition can be so intense that a turning away from reality takes place and a clinging to the object through the medium of a hallucinatory wishful psychosis. Normally, respect for reality gains the day. Nevertheless its orders cannot be obeyed at once. They are carried out bit by bit, at great expense of time and cathectic energy, and in the meantime the existence of the lost object is psychically prolonged. Each single one of the memories and expectations in which the libido is bound to the object is brought up and hyper-cathected, and detachment of the libido is accomplished in respect of it. Why this compromise by which the command of reality is carried out piecemeal should be so extraordinarily painful is not at all easy to explain in terms of economics. It is remarkable that this painful unpleasure is taken as a matter of course by us. The fact is, however, that when the work of mourning is completed the ego becomes free and uninhibited again.
       Let us now apply to melancholia what we have learnt about mourning. In one set of cases it is evident that melancholia too may be the reaction to the loss of a loved object. Where the exciting causes are different one can recognize that there is a loss of a more ideal kind. The object has not perhaps actually died, but has been lost as an object of love (e.g. in the case of a betrothed girl who has been jilted). In yet other cases one feels justified in maintaining the belief that a loss of this kind has occurred, but one cannot see clearly what it is that has been lost, and it is all the more reasonable to suppose that the patient cannot consciously perceive what he has lost either. This, indeed, might be so even if the patient is aware of the loss which has given rise to his melancholia, but only in the sense that he knows whom he has lost but not what he has lost in him.



- Sigmund Freud


Read the full essay here

Thursday, March 8, 2012


All of the lights
All of the lights
Turn up the lights in here, baby
Extra bright, I want y'all to see this


Turn up the lights in here, baby


You know what I need


Want you to see everything


Want you to see all of the lights



Fast cars, shooting-stars
Until it's Vegas everywhere we are




If you want it you can get it for the rest of your life
If you want it you can get it for the rest of your life




Something wrong
I hold my head


I'm headed home,
I'm almost there
I'm on my way, headed up the stairs




Cop lights,
Flash lights,
Spot lights
Strobe lights,
Street lights
Fast life, Drug life
Thug life, Roc life
Every night




I made mistakes
I bump my head
Court's sucked me dry




She need a daddy
Baby please, can't let her grow up in that ghetto university


Get it right, aye
You should go and get your own




Unemployment line, credit card declined
Did I not mention I was about to lose my mind?
And also was about to do that line

Okay, okay, you know we going all the way this time




We going all the way this time
We going all the way this time
We going all the way this time
We going all the way this time




Turn up the lights in here, baby
Extra bright, I want y'all to see this
Turn up the lights in here, baby


You know what I need, want you to see everything
Want you to see all of the lights


I tried to tell you but all I could say is, "oh"


Whoaa-oh-whoa
Whoaa-oh-whoa-oh
I tried to tell you but all I could say is, "oh"




I don't know what's good for me.



Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

"Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?"




Have you ever seen a dead man,

A dead man lying in the road?

Have you ever heard his best friend,

His best friend say, "you'd better go, before you get fined,"

Or else you'll do time?





Monday, March 5, 2012







I knew it was wrong but I palmed it
I saved it, I waited, I called it

The liquor on your lips, the liquor on your lips
The liquor on your lips makes you dangerous

I knew it was wrong, I’m beyond it
I tried to be strong but I lost it.







I'm In Love With A Dying Man - I've Done Everything I Can









Go away from my window
Leave at your own chosen speed
I'm not the one you want, babe
I'm not the one you need








Thursday, March 1, 2012




"O my Euphues, little dost thou know the sudden sorrow that I sustain for thy sweet sake, whose wit hath bewitched me, whose rare qualities have deprived me of mine old quality, [whose] courteous behaviour without curiosity, whose comely feature without fault, whose filed speech without fraud hath wrapped me in this misfortune."


Euphues: The Anatomy of Wit