July 20, 2014 § 2 Comments
Fuck this shit. Fuck all the ill-informed assholes who have no idea what’s going on yet feel the need to protest and comment as if they even have a clue. Fuck Hamas for using children as human shields. Fuck Hamas for forcing civilian population to hide their weapons. Fuck Hamas in general. Fuck the bastards who kidnapped three kids and butchered them. Fuck the bastards who kidnapped another and burned him alive. Fuck my asshole government that chooses to escalate situations when it’s convenient to distract from how fucked-up it truly is. Fuck the bitch that has a seat in our house of representatives while advocating for pretty much the end of our state and death to all Jews. Fuck my government in general. Fuck everything. Fuck everyone. Fuck. This. Shit.
July 4, 2014 § Leave a comment
“What I say is, a town isn’t a town without a bookstore. It may call itself a town, but unless it’s got a bookstore it knows it’s not fooling a soul.”
“Hey,” said Shadow. “Huginn or Muninn, or whoever you are.”
The bird turned, head tipped, suspiciously, on one side, and it stared at him with bright eyes.
“Say ‘Nevermore,'” said Shadow.
“Fuck you,” said the raven.”
“There’s never been a true war that wasn’t fought between two sets of people who were certain they were in the right. The really dangerous people believe they are doing whatever they are doing solely and only because it is without question the right thing to do. And that is what makes them dangerous.”
“I miss you’, he admitted.
‘I’m here’, she said.
‘That’s when I miss you most. When you’re here. When you aren’t here, when you’re just a ghost of the past or a dream from another life, it’s easier then.”
“He wondered whether home was a thing that happened to a place after a while, or if it was something that you found in the end, if you simply walked and waited and willed it long enough.”
“This isn’t about what is . . . it’s about what people think is. It’s all imaginary anyway. That’s why it’s important. People only fight over imaginary things.”
“People populate the darkness; with ghosts, with gods, with electrons, with tales.”
“You shine like a beacon in a dark world.”
– Neil Gaiman, “American Gods”.
July 2, 2014 § Leave a comment
“He hath disgraced me and hindered me half a million, laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies—and what’s his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge. The villainy you teach me I will execute—and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.” – The Merchant of Venice, William Shakespeare.
May 24, 2014 § Leave a comment
I don’t think that I’ve been in love as such,
Although I liked a few folk pretty well.
Love must be vaster than my smiles or touch,
For brave men died and empires rose and fell
For love: girls followed boys to foreign lands
And men have followed women into Hell.
In plays and poems someone understands
There’s something makes us more than blood and bone
And more than biological demands…
For me, love’s like the wind, unseen, unknown.
I see the trees are bending where it’s been,
I know that it leaves wreckage where it’s blown.
I really don’t know what “I love you” means.
I think it means “Don’t leave me here alone.”
– Neil Gaiman.
April 24, 2014 § Leave a comment
In the monochrome of daily life, some people bring bursts of color and turn the occasional night into some kind of magic.
The day dawns, the magic fades away and there’s nothing but shades of grey and the same old cycle I’m yet to break. But at least I have the memories.
There’s color and magic in music, in new friends and old ones, in having tea at a pub while singing along to a Queen tribute show.
And in this boy, who, as all other boys I cared about, doesn’t really love me, but shares his magic with me nonetheless: