of music

second hand cd shops and handphone-loss-trauma make a deadly combination. julienne's nifty little discovery was a little bit of heaven. sifting through tonnes and tonnes of backstreet boys and even chancing on fandi ahmad's album [!] was entertaining at the least. each cd held a story: stupid girls who bought an album because ____ was handsome, silly people who bought the entire album just because they liked one song, and the common thread of them kicking themselves and turning their bad music choices in to the cashier in the shop. and the joy of stumbling upon wide mouth mason's album, the one i wanted to buy so badly in p6. so tomorrow i'll go there to turn in my madonna cd. i still dont know what i was thinking

the love sick things

someone [dalglish if i'm not wrong] once told me that hate could never come from love. i found that out on my own too. but only after i'd taken a left, went up, turned around, went right, up again and then down. i'd be exhausted, and in a strange place. so if any of them would've found me i'd gladly go home with them - even if only for a rest.

where did you go?
did I make you leave?
another thing I didn't know.
nobody ever believes,
they just leave.