sid vicious

"we had a death pact, i have to keep my half of the bargin. please bury me (pto) next to my baby, bury me in my leather jacket, jeans, and motorcyle boots. goodbye." - sid vicous ( the sex pistols ) suicide letter
sid died at the age of 21, of a herion over dose.

in previous yrs sid was a laid back guy who often siad things like " i'll die b4 i'm 25, and when i do i'll have lived the way i wanted to," and "today everything's a conplict of intrest"

sid vicous had suffered a tragic loss, his girlfriend was found stabbed to death in their hotel room the previous febuary. :( sid was arrested on suspison, even worse.

i can still hear nosies

life is just a noise, listen to the noise, it may trick you at times, but it's always chattering ], always sounding alarms of departure and alarms of warning as well as lust.
weather you listen to the alarms or not, they'll be there, telling you to make choices- some you may not want to make. i use to listen to the noise, but now i believe it's just that- noise.
endless chattering; endless voices chattering into the distance, and yet they sound so close- almost as if right outside of your ear... or even just in your head...
believe in your noise. it believes you to be there, listening, always listening.. weather truth or lie, wrong or right...you contribute to that endless noise.
-hannah kirkland ( wrote on january13, o9)

immortal!!!

I detest life-insurance agents; they always argue that I shall some day die, which is not so.
Stephen Leacock (1869 - 1944)
ironic. this dudes like "i shall not die"
well he did live like 75 years so thats pretty good, i guess. considering everything.... i wonder how he died...
i am going to google it.
brb

[This, my little Jane, is why Pauper Children have to die.Pauper Children underfedDie delirious in Bed;Thus at Malthus's CommandMatch Supply with true Demand. (Oh! Mr. Malthus!, 23-28) ] stephen leacock was a poet!!!


(these aren't by stephen leacock, just the one above)

Let the boy try along this bayonet-blade
How cold steel is, and keen with hunger of blood;
Blue with all malice, like a madman's flash;
And thinly drawn with famishing for flesh.
Lend him to stroke these blind, blunt bullet-heads
Which long to muzzle in the hearts of lads.
Or give him cartridges of fine zinc teeth,
Sharp with the sharpness of grief and death.
For his teeth seem for laughing round an apple.
There lurk no claws behind his fingers supple;
And God will grow no talons at his heels,
Nor antlers through the thickness of his curls.



What thou lovest well remains, the rest is drossWhat thou lov'st well shall not be reft from theeWhat thou lov'st well is thy true heritageWhose world, or mine or theirs or is it of none?First came the seen, then thus the palpable Elysium, though it were in the halls of hell,What thou lovest well is thy true heritageWhat thou lov'st well shall not be reft from thee
(EZRA POUND, PISAN CANTOS, LXXXI)



"well stephen died of throat cancer on March 28"
now you know

quotes

"the only thing for certain is that nothing is"

"without music life would be mistake"

"without my light, i have no life... without my love, i have no soul... without you i have nothing."