ok... so it turns out he was gay... and died of aids... i always seem to go for the wrong men...

i'm in love with a dead guy...

... but i dont care. he's SO FIT! i saw him in pillow talk on the tellybox the other day.

I'M IN LOVE!!!

I need a moan >>>

I sat down and realised i haven't blogged on the three slash page in forever!!! And as i needed a bit of a rant i thought i may as well have a rant on here...

So, you would think that four of these...

A couple of these...


And one of these...

Equals get in touch....but apparently not! In fact i found out that it means, I am a craaaaazzzy stalker who just wants the other person to know I am alive and that they feel no need to get back in contact to let me know the same. Ah well. Life's a bitch when it wants to be. I'm over the shame and won't be committing the same offense again any time soon! Enjoy!

stine from alphabeat

yes, they're pretty shit. but this song is alright!
and stine's hair is AMAZE. i want the cut.



xxx

my new love - white plasteramic toy watch

ok so its on ebay, current price £46. should i bid? postage is £4.99... its brand new and says you cant get it anymore, last one in stock apparently. what should i do??? ive got a nixon watch i want to sell, its 2nd hand and i cant find the original box. its called 'the small player'. anyone interested? its a few years old, but it has a lovely diamond on the face. mmm!

it looks like this :

but ive also just happened across THIS:

what a beauty!!!!!!!!

xxx

JCDC vs LEGO (thanks zack)

JCDC VS LEGO from Four H on Vimeo.

poetry corner :)

i remembered this poem the other day, i had to study it for english gcse. although at the time it was a pain in my ass, now i can actually appreciate it for what it is, and not have to analyse every bloody line. anyway, it warms my heart now. and i just wanted to share it with you guys...

It ain't what you do it's what it does to you

I have not bummed across America
with only a dollar to spare, one pair
of busted Levi's and a bowie knife.
I have lived with thieves in Manchester.

I have not padded through the Taj Mahal,
barefoot, listening to the space between
each footfall picking up and putting down
its print against the marble floor. But I

skimmed flat stones across Black Moss on a day
so still I could hear each set of ripples
as they crossed. I felt each stones' inertia
spend itself against the water; then sink.

I have not toyed with a parachute cord
while perched on the lip of a light aircraft;
but I have held the wobbly head of a boy
at the day centre, and stroked his fat hands.

And I guess that the tightness in the throat
and the tiny cascading sensation
somewhere inside us are both part of that
sense of something else. That feeling, I mean.

Simon Armitage

xxx