When I look into your eyes
I can see a love restrained
But darlin' when I hold you
Don't you know I feel the same
'Cause nothin' lasts forever
And we both know hearts can change
And it's hard to hold a candle
In the cold November rain
Siren's Song
Friday, November 21, 2003 Tabula rasa, in Latin, a smoothed or erased tablet.
Return to innocence, turning the hands of time backwards to a time when the mind is in its hypothetical primary blank or empty state before receiving outside impressions, its original pristine state. Tabula rasa.
I feel strangely perturbed by my inactivity today. I slept, slumbered, and went through numerous cycles of REM sleep. Concussed myself to blanko my mind in order to receive the new information that I must store.
Have you ever been in need of a hug? I'm not so much in need of one now, but I would appreciate one. Weird. Maybe it's the weather. Maybe it's those dreams that I had. Maybe, maybe I just want a hug.
Less than fifteen hours to facing my ultimate ordeal, I'm feeling lost, helpless, and in great need to bitch about my trepidations.
But I shan't.
I will find the strength to resist leeching on the sympathy of others. I will overcome my own fears, fight my own battle, and emerge victorious.
Jim's staring at a cook,
Giving him a most hungry look.
Lightning and thunder,
Buried six feet under,
A pile of disgustingly mouldy book(s).
And in response to my limerick my fren wrote:
What is the cook doing with mouldy book(s),
Maybe he left out the receipe to cook,
Or perhaps the cook,
Was mezmerised by the girl,
Who gave him the look.
And one more wrote:
Where are my books?
Buried in an underground nook,
Rotting into slimy green gook.
Jimmie doesn't care,
Tattered t(ee) to bare,
Clubbing herself senseless at Zouk.
3:08 PM
