I should admit - I don't know much about myself. Also, as it happens, I rarely know how I am when faced with the sincere, (or not so sincere) investigation 'How are you?'.

But, you are welcome (at your own risk and kindness!) to know or to find out what lies beneath or on the surface, and then, maybe, you could let me know? That would be grand.

I am also sometimes prone to misogyny, pointless arrogance and disappearance. But, these are rare accidents.

And, and, and.. well, as you are also probably aware - all these, except this very moment, are insignificant.

Let's move on then, shall we?

(Handshake with Karl Popper.)

PS: And, I am a moonstruck. Are you too? Grand.

Submitting to vanity? Or, okay, making vanity my slave? Whichever sounds better really..

I had many plans, ambitions and .. well, just that. 'Had'. Sadly, all my great counterparts are dead or in the pages of history. Dante, Eliot, Elliot Smith, Mr. Daas.. ah, cowrads!

Hence, in the meantime, starting the horrid BVC thing from come September to become a Barrister. My parents would be utterly glad. Before that happens, I am still being a lofty analytical philosopher, arrogant versifier, bartender, songwriter and musician, .. all the things that the idle ones do in any civilizations.

Apart from these tautological niches,

umm, oh yes, looking for you. Or, you there! Or, you, and you. Okay, maybe not.

Maybe, not at all.

Ahem.

I should really not start on this. But, for clarity (haha), let's see,
at overcoming nihilism and loving modern capitalism.

And, as an emblem of my delusional self, I often try to memorize shapes of clouds or the way a certain night's moon is bent while I wait for the bus. So, this implies I have a good memory and I am good at waiting. Grand.

Standing by the window? How many are good at this? Tell me.

Writing really great songs and melodies and singing them equally badly.

Being a very great poet of the distant future? Hmm?

Haha, I don't know really.

My physical presence.

Maybe, my hair.

Or, my forlorn eyes. Diseased watery eyes.

My beautiful face. Or the ugly one.

The mark of oblivion.

Or, if someone is very attentive, he or she might notice that I am almost blind.

now - Collected works of Rumi, Collection of Jivanananda Das, Nobody writes to Colonel, Selected Post modern American Poetry, Selected Mark Strand, The Aeneid, Hidden Faces, Camus : A life...

Nostalgia, Sacrifice, Before Sunrise, Before Sunset, Cinema Paradiso, Red, White, Blue, Dekalog, Malena, Irreversible, Baise Moi, Rules of Attraction, Notting Hill, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Ararat, Mad love, Sound of Sea, Perfume, Forrest Gump, Road trip...

Del Amitri, Damien Rice, A. R. Rahman, Nick Cave, THe Knife, Leonard Cohen, Jeff Buckley, Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Hank Williams, Frank Sinatra, Eastern Classical, Bach, Western Classical, ... Led Zeppelin, Rainbow, Iron Maiden, Kalmah, Children of Bodom, Beatles, George Harrison, Enya, Secret Garden, Rush, Alice in Chains, Coldplay, Lifehouse, Judas Priest, JOhn Denver, Sting.. and many more..

Italian... and eastern...

Boston Legal The Practice

the illusion of freedom,

bleak city of memory,

the concocted sense of self-worth

my light grip on infinity.

The idea of effortless intimacy.

the way language eludes itself

ahem..
Was that six? Seven? Ah, sod it..

Wittgenstein's shadow.

my dad and a sister,

the effortless mortality;

Mark Strand's voice from 'The Lond Sad party'.

Quantum theory of gravity. Foundations of logic, mathematics, language...

Pale blue dot.

wondering if is there a full moon,

looking for another moonstruck who is a girl,

Well, err, well.

I think, I mean, I suspect that I am more drawn to 'big' girls (I refuse to explain 'big'). And, I feel astonishingly attracted to a girl who makes silence evocative, and quiet stare compelling. Err. Is that private?

you want to get lost in London (or, in this planet called Earth) with a bottle of rum ...

or, you can bore me and I can bore you and break down an ego or two..