Love Without Tears

New HIM album is out! Yay me. In this new album, Ville sings the song of my people:

A Glimpse

“Depression lies,” says The Bloggess, and the woman knows her shit. But repeating that mantra while you’re deep inside it doesn’t always help. Because depression lies so well, it sounds like the truth.

The thing that people who never experienced it don’t seem to understand, is that the thoughts that go through one’s head when one is depressed don’t seem like lies. Instead, the seem like the only true moments of clarity in a lifetime of lies.

Things will not get better, things will not work out. They do sometimes, but they won’t for you. They never did and have no reason to start.

The boy who packed a girl’s heart and took it away in his suitcase will not bring it back or trade for his own. Distance and money and borders and laws aren’t even the problem if to one, love is not the point while to the other, love is all that is.

Hope is a lie that gets us out of bed in the morning so that we can go through the motions of faking a truth and living a lie. I am not really happy, nor will I ever be, because I suffer from the horrible condition of wanting the one thing I cannot have.
Always and forever reaching for stars and grasping nothing but air.

Some days are better, even the depression-afflicted brain will agree. Some things that happen aren’t so bad. But if you allow yourself even a moment of hope, if you falter and dare to dream of a change to your liking – well, you’ve brought this upon yourself really, you silly girl. We covered this already, says depression-brain, don’t you remember? And as the days pass you know that it’s right. Nothing changes, the stars are still out of reach, even if you trade one for another. gluing a heart back together only means it will break once again.

There is no point, why even bother?

I cannot change a person, and I cannot change the way I am. I will never be good enough for those that matter to me. A second-best, but never first choice. They’ve left me before, they will do it again. Such is life. It’s just the way things are.

There is no point, why even bother?

And when you’re depressed, nothing seems truer, nothing makes more sense than this.

There is no point, why even bother?

Why We Fight

Just ten minutes from a mini-series, but it shows quite clearly exactly that – why we fight. And explains (I think) exactly why Israel is the way it is.

Todes

 

Any

A friend of mine was in a band once upon a time (and now once again). I think the drummer from Orphaned Land also made an appearance. You can listen and download for an amount you see fit if you go here. You can also upload your own art to share with others.

Do it. You know you want to.

So far, so good, so long…

A study in YouTube watch history

I think my YouTube watch history suggests that I’m rather melancholy and nostalgic (or possibly a pathetic idiot, whichever). Which is odd, because (otherwise) I’ve been in a fairly good mood.

(1) I don’t know you, but I want you all the  more for that. Words fall through me and always fool me and I can’t react. And games that never amount to more than they’re meant will play themselves out.

(2) You can hide beneath your covers and study your pain, make crosses for your lovers, throw roses in the rain, waste your summer praying in vain for a savior to rise on these streets. No, I’m no hero, that’s understood – all the redemption I can offer is beneath this dirty hood, with a chance to make it good somehow, so what else can we do now except roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair? The night’s bursting open and these two lanes could take us anywhere. We’ve got one last chance to make it real.

(3) So if you ever want something and you’ll call, call… then I’ll come running to fight, and I’ll be at your door when there’s nothing worth running for.

(4) What I am to you is not what you mean to me, you give me miles and miles of mountains and I ask for the sea.

(5) Leave me out with the waste, this is not what I do. It’s the wrong kind of place to be thinking of you. It’s the wrong time for somebody new. It’s a small crime and I’ve got no excuse.

(6) אני אש, אני רוח, לא מוכר, לא ידוע. אני שביל שעובר וחוזר אליך. אני גל, אני קצף, ודמעה, שיורדת על פני. הסתכלי… התקרבי אלי. והנה אני – כבר ישן לבד ורוקם לעצמי חלומות. הנה אני – יודע שאת, את לא יכולה להיות.

(7) She was the wind carrying in all the troubles and fears he for years tried to forget. He was the fire, restless and wild, and you were like a moth to the flame.

(8) Gold November, yellow, brown and green – I try to picture you still somewhere in between. Cold the night falls, shadows drawing in. The glimpse I had of you is torn into the wind. And I wonder why tracing paths, we search the stormy sky.

(9) You are the dream in my nightmare. I am that falling sensation. You are like needles and pins. I am your hangover morning.

(10) They’re picking up pieces of me while they’re picking up pieces of you. In a bag you will be before the day is over. Were you looking for somewhere to be and looking for someone to do? Stupid me, to believe that I could trust in stupid you. On the back of my hand were directions that I could understand. Now that old buzzer Johnny Walker has gone and ruined all our plans, our best laid plans.

Sync

So the piano tune? Easy. I mean, even for me. Nothing to it, really. But to add the singing? Dear god people how do you do that?! That’s more synchronization than my brain is capable of. Possibly for the best since no one really wants to hear me sing (for good reason). But still. Who knew it’s that complicated to sync? I thought synchronizing two hands is complicated. Little did I know…