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I am sick, having gotten a sore throat and a slight chill from all the dust from outfield. I forecast a fever soon, at this rate.
Why did Patrick Viera leave? Why???? Why???? Arsene Wenger should have sold someone like Pascal Cygan instead! There's now a vacuum at the heart of the Arsenal- no one, not Hleb, not Flamini, not Fabregras, nor even Gilberto can fill those monster-sized boots that were Viera's. In any case, I'm into the Drifting again. The drifting is like the Dreaming, realm of Neil Gaiman's Lord of Dreams, except that this is my own realm where majesty and passion and glory and darkness meld and merge into my sentiment. I shall go on with this... And off into the sky Its night. Nights are longer than daytimes, say twice as long. And when there is daytime, its not humid nor buggy nor stifling nor windless. Daytime should be sunny and windy and the skies must be clear and blue, with huge swollen sheep-clouds, but all in the right proportions. If there's rain, then it must come in thunderstorms, with dark majestic sheets of grey lashing out with lightning and thunder. But for the most part it must be sun and azure sky. But night- ahh night. This is when the clouds dissapear and the stars emerge. And the stars will be as numerous as the grains of sand, each like a diamond against a velvert backing. Pure beauty. And we're in the sky now at night. And the stars, they're breathtaking. This big swirl of diamonds, out there sparkling in the void. Fantastic, they glimmer in your eyes, their reflections magnified and amplified into points of light brighter than day. And they sparkle, its pure magic, pure bliss, so small a pair of eyes encompassing the light of a thousand million stars in an obsidian night sky spanning half the galaxy. Yes, night- overwhelming, colossal, all glorious and majestic and burning with the fires of a thousand passions and dreams, that are so very small but still blaze away, fueled by hope, the hope that you've given me, the hope that can never be put out nor extinguished by neither space nor time, not ever, not until you say otherwise. That is my Drifting, my drifting into a world of beauty and nobility. Call it soppy and cheap sentimentalism, but that is my domain, my realm of hope and dream, my sanctum from the torrid stench of reality, my House of Healing, and I will not let it fade for as long as my God and my Hope lives. posted by baron at 4:16 AM
Armour is taking its toll on me.
I have never known such fatigue before- mental spiritual physical etc etc etc. But oh well. Enough about whining, I guess its just the fact that I miss my home with an unprecedented intensity. Home, home, where I wanted to go. Such a wonderful place, on the East Coast, next to the beach. With sea breezes and all that. None of the satanic carbon encrusted chimneys that define Jurong and Tuas, nor the endless drab HDB slabs of Toa Payoh or Ang Mo Kio, nor the filth and farms of the Chu Kangs up north. Oh man. Home, home, where I wanted to go...... Condolences to the good folk of London, who have just witnessed yet another onslaught of that demon Terror wrought by them motherfuckers from arabia.... Condolences and may they be strong posted by baron at 6:28 AM
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