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Highs and lows


In shorter, sudden alternaces, the term is bipolar. But when you are experiencing them at the same time, is it split personality?

The highs

T is back. And we can resonate. Also we can reason. He can be very sweet.

A new “project” is open. After wondering in the streets, yes, it is wonder, but also wander, in this case, we decided to follow two likely creatures. And we got there. Nice! I liked it.

Drinking

Being smiled at

Being complimented. Twice. In five minutes.

Betting that I would make the bartender smile at me, and winning. The tip occured only later.

The lows

The “summer” hat - I wish I bought that stupid black hat from the future back in London. I would’ve had to party around the metropolis with a hat on my head and a hat in my bag, but I would have also worn it last night instead of the summer hat from last season. Someone learnedly taught me “You should carry arround a special hat box”.

Having something nasty on the skin, I don’t know what it is, but the true problem is in the brains, that’s for sure.

Drinking and the drinking headacke

Depression

28 times (yeah, I like it a lot!)

Meet you downstairs in the bar and heard
Your rolled up sleeves and your skull t-shirt
You say “Why did you do it with him today?”
And sniff me out like I was tank-a-ray.

‘Cause you’re my fella, my guy,
Hand me your Stella and fly.
By the time I’m out the door
You tear me down like Roger Moore.

I cheated myself
Like I knew I would.
I told ya I was trouble,
You know that I’m no good.

Upstairs in bed, with my ex boy,
He is in the place, but I can’t get joy,
Thinking of you in the final throws, this is when my buzzer goes

Run out to meet your chicks and bitter
You say when we’re married cause you’re not bitter
There’ll be none of him no more
I cried for you on the kitchen floor.

I cheated myself
Like I knew I would
I told ya I was trouble,
You know that I’m no good.

Sweet reunion, Jamaica and Spain,
We’re like how we were again.
I’m in the tub, you’re on the seat,
Lick your lips as I soak my feet.

Then you notice little carpet burns,
My stomach drops and my guts churn,
You shrug and it’s the worst
To truly stuck the knife in her.

I cheated myself like I knew I would.
I told ya I was trouble, you know that I’m no good.
I cheated myself, like I knew I would.
I told ya I was trouble, yeah ya know that I’m no good.



Lyrics to Amy Winehouse’s You Know I’m No Good, corrected version based on Complete Album Lyrics.

My iPod shuffle works again. I can tell T is back.




Mabaruma, October 2006




New Amsterdam, October 2006




Port Kaituma, October 2006

I wish…


Took this test, via Rainforestdreamer (get well, kiddo!).

Apparently, I am the… “The Magician

Skill, wisdom, adaptation. Craft, cunning, depending on dignity.

eloquent and charismatic both verbally and in writing, you are clever, witty, inventive and persuasive.

The Magician is the male power of creation, creation by willpower and desire. In that ancient sense, it is the ability to make things so just by speaking them aloud. Reflecting this is the fact that the Magician is represented by Mercury. He represents the gift of tongues, a smooth talker, a salesman. Also clever with the slight of hand and a medicine man - either a real doctor or someone trying to sell you snake oil.”

I wish! I say! Where are the days?

On other brighter news I have committed a huge little mistake, or more like 44,500 of them. Now I am looking forward at a busy joyfully weekend at work. Rejoice!

I need a mirror


For reflection.

The only St. Nicholas present I am getting


Amy Winehouse, You Know I’m No Good. I might consider buying this Back to Black. This was Foolea’s music load, sending me surprises through iTunes. Well done, little one!

I find myself in need for serenity.

Bleah!

When busy I end up turning into a sadder version of me. (Yes, I am writing this from my desk, approaching twelve hours on the job!)

Another ugly one, fowl language


Is it just the early morning and the perspective of the day at work or do I say, underline that, SAY, fuck a lot? This post contains foul, not fowl! language. Be warned!

Since it is between us (and) the chicks, let me revert with some more sex and the city.

Never fuck them right away or you’ll be fucked. Fuck, don’t be fucked. Fucking WITH them is allowed, hell it is encouraged, because it is preferable and less painful. Fucking with them should not be mistaken for fucking around. Fucking around is usually a series of one night stands, while fucking with them is a mental multiple one night stand. Even when you are fucking with them, be smart, use protection.

Now, I do think I have the perfect fowl picture for the perfect fowl post. And I suspect this post will bring me some major unwanted hits.