Cogs can think.

Even though it may seem as if I have closed this book months ago, that’s not really the case. Externally - yes, closed, locked, burnt, ashes flushed down the drain. Internally - no. The book was still open, up until November or December of last year. After a brief flirt with the idea of trying to work things out, of trying to see if something might still be there, I decided I would be wasting my precious and extremely valuable time.

For once in my life, I decided to listen to the advice friends were giving me. This is quite the rare occurrence, and partially explains some of my more… Embarrassing mistakes.

It took me a while to find the right words (which in itself is kind of ironic, seeing she was one of the few who could shut me up in the first place), but as I was driving through the rainy night just now, listening to Alanis’ “So-Called Chaos” (what’s up with that surge in interest in Alanis lately? I mean, seriously?), it hit me.

I can be an asshole of the grandest kind
I can withold like it’s going out of style
I can be the moodiest baby and you’ve never met anyone
Who is as negative as I am sometimes

I am the wisest man you’ve ever met
I am the kindest soul with whom you’ve connected
I have the bravest heart that you’ve ever seen and you’ve never met anyone
Who is as positive as I am sometimes

You see everything, you see every part
You see all my light, and you love my dark
You dig everything of which I’m ashamed
There’s not anything to which you can’t relate
And you’re still here

I blame everyone else, not my own partaking
My passive-aggressiveness can be devastating
I’m terrified and mistrusting and you’ve never met anyone
Who is as closed-down as I am sometimes

I’m the funniest man that you’ve ever known
I am the dullest man that you’ve ever known
I’m the most gorgeous man that you’ve ever known
And you’ve never met anyone
Who is as everything as I am sometimes

You see everything, you see every part
You see all my light, and you love my dark
You dig everything of which I’m ashamed
There’s not anything to which you can’t relate
And you’re still here

Or so I thought.

Closed, burnt, flushed. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Is there anything more pleasing than watching a 20 month old tomcat chasing its own tail in the kitchen, lit by deep-blue LED lighting, with Alanis’ “Surrendering” playing in the background?

Well, apart from meeting Fiona Apple, I’m pretty sure the answer is ‘no’.

A photo a I took of Twiek a few days ago. He’s such a pretty critter, this is thoroughbred material. Dare to disagree with me.

I got this card from Renate a couple of months ago. It reads: “Good news… Bad news… No news… You’re always there for me…!! I like that!” It meant a great deal to me when I opened its envelope, and it still does. It sits right in front of my top album shelve - right about the most prestigious place in my apartment.

Coincidentally, it’s Renate’s birthday today. Happy birthday!

You call that a party?

Where are the people rolling through the garden in their own vomit? Where are the people drinking out of the toilet? Where are the people sleeping in bathtubs? Where are the people getting kicked off graveyards? Where are the midnight three hour hikes through the countryside in the rain? Where are the drunk people cycling into the canal? Where are the drunk people getting lost in the farmland, forcing the police to be called? Where are the people waking up in their own pool of vomit? Where are the people swimming in a very famous fountain in Rome at 3am? And so on?

Pssh. That’s not a party, it’s a children’s get together.

Valid and legit sender’s email address - check. Valid reply-to address - check. Proper spelling, grammar, and punctuation - check.

Oh, only one thing, Mr. Scammer.

I DON’T PLAY WORLD OF WARCRAFT.

Icelandic singer and songwriter Björk attacked a newspaper photographer shortly after she arrived in Auckland for the Big Day Out music festival.

Björk tore New Zealand Herald photographer Glenn Jeffrey’s shirt in half after he photographed her arriving at Aucland airport early yesterday.

Jeffrey, a news photographer of 25 years, said Björk was accompanied by a man who asked him not take photos.

“I took a couple of pictures … and as I turned and walked away she came up behind me, grabbed the back of my black skivvy and tore it,” he said, according to the New Zealand Press Association.

+10 For you, Björk. You go, girl. If kindly asking the press maggots doesn’t stop them from taking photos, then you need other means to make it clear to those idiots. If you can’t reason with an animal, you need to resort to physical punishments.

Old soldiers never die, they fade away, goes the saying. Michail Minin, the man who raised the Sovjet flag over the Reichstag on 30th April, 1945, at 21:00, signaling the Red Army’s victory over Nazi-Germany, has passed away.

The photo made its way around the world.

They fade away indeed. May we never forget that we owe the Sovjet people just as much gratitude as we owe to the US and Canada. The Sovjet men and women in the Red Army who fought the Nazis are just as much heroes as the men and women who landed on the beaches of Normandy.

May we never forget. We owe them our gratitude.

A pill to make you numb
A pill to make you dumb
A pill to make you anybody else
But all the drugs in this world
Won’t save her from herself

Instead of pointing and laughing our assess off, and instead of the “media” being all over her like leeches, and instead of fashion homos declaring her a style icon, someone, uhm, ought to, like, help this woman, or else the world is going to lose a very talented and gifted musician.

Instead, the motherfuckers who call themselves journalists rather get rich over this woman’s pain and suffering, instead of fcuking doing something about it. It disgusts me.

Edwards: Looks like a guy who sells vacuum cleaners on a door-to-door provision basis. I don’t trust him.

Obama: I just don’t know what to think of this guy. “Birds flew off from the fall-out shelter, eight miles high and falling faaaaaaaaaast…”

Clinton: She looks like a strong woman to me, and as far as I’m concerned, we give more women a try in power. We let men have a go at it for thousands of years, and let’s face it, us men made a bloody mess of it. Oh, and Hillary gets you Bill.

And we all love Bill. So vote Hillary, please, Americans.