Not sure if I have tasted, smelt, heard, said or felt anything much of anything in the last six months or so, maybe I need to stop pouring salt on everything
Glee is surprisingly, stupidly compelling
tylenol pm / nurofen plus? close run race
Watched "the edge of love" last night , first film in eons that I adored,
The times they are a changing

I remember when I was around 18 and trying to find a cure for the constant headaches I was experiencing at the time
I read a book about stuff and it said that anything that you fully experience will disappear, I didn't really understand what that meant at the time, I think I do now
I hate the smell of cinnamon, absolutely detest it, and it's everywhere at this time of year not that that has anything to do with anything, but I can smell it now gahh

Actually feeling a little more alive of late as I can feel a bit of mystery in the air, and there is NOTHING I love more than a bit of a mystery, blame it on a childhood fuelled by scooby doo, Usbourne paperbacks on how to be a spy, Harriet the spy, the avengers, winning a library competition to go backstage at the local police station or just blame it on good old fashioned noseyness, snuffle, snuffle
"What we see, and what we seem, are but a dream, a dream within a dream."
right? ;)

Fortune does indeed present gifts not according to the book

I don't' "think" I have ever felt this alone

A room full of people

I decided over the weekend to start twittering, I don't know why, and as an older one I'm not really too sure what the what I'm actually doing , if I'm doing it right or what the ever, but I like to think I'd try most th8ings once, with the exception of extreme caving and cockroach eating, in comparison twitter seems fairly safe
http://twitter.com/vintageopulence

I would rather face the reality of having to scratch my leg until it bleeds than spend my evenings confined to the inside of my house, content to let the air conditioning and comfort of four walls numb me into as sense of year round sameyness, a constant inner temperature where nothing changes, the incessant television digital or otherwise plays out a life in 10 minute intervals, where it is never too cold or too hot, where you can never achieve what you are told to aspire to, and everything can be summised in sanitary soundbites.
yes maybe I'm crazy to brave to the blood sucking bastards, but what is life without feeling
I have become in recent weeks a little obsessed with the landscape of 20th century Northern Ireland, I know not why, but I read and watch and listen until it makes some kind of sense, maybe because it could happen again anywhere , maybe becasue we're all feeling too safe, with our air conditionined,television,ipods,laptops,mobilephones,supermarketdeliveries,celebritygossip,innanerealityshows,flavourlessfastfood

whats real anymore?

sometimes we spend a long forever searching for the person to save us, the hero, the mother, the comforter, the godhead, when all along that saviour is inside of us,and they don't manifest themselves with fire or thunder , or angels wings, or even any kind of drama, when you're done listening for a voice that never speaks, colours that don't scream, easy answers, fireworks, and trumpets, maybe something quiet. something not so flambouant , something banal is just right there and isn't expected, it maybe even grates

Inspite of my mum finding a scorpion in the bathroom this morning and me having my head over a bowl all night I'm actually having a really good fortnight full of missed trains, weird ass KKK shops, cigars and huge porches
As with all great things this too will come to an all too sudden end, and thence another summer of memories passes by
sometimes I wish I was made of stone