Look man. I didn't tell you to take my book man. I knew you were a crazy, but I didn't know you were a crook man. I see you picking daisies... but that's my garden! You shouldn't pick daises if you don't farm them.

I tell you straight like it is.

It's not okay. You should be ashamed like your kids: who turned my outhouse in, and borrowed my dog, and then I find him in the Burroughs all sorrowful and lost in the fog.

Look man, I didn't let you take my book man. You took it behind my back when we shook hands, when I wasn't even looking. That's no good man.

So you can be a criminal, but you can still do good man. But look man, I guess you're just a crook. Man look! All I want back is my book.

Another week bites the duster, and I am a couple of days late with my summary. Again. Busy? Yeah.

The week was a good one at first: sunny scenes as never seen before, the sun gleaming behind gray clouds, making way for greater days, and then came Saturday morning and a weekend of rain and cold. A good buddy called. His grandma had just died. After a long battle her body finally gave up, failed to take in further nutrients, and thus: RIP Inga. We took a walk, pondering life and death and the lack of sunshine. A somber squander.

It might seem stationary above, but I say that RIP with the deepest regard. I've visited quite a few times, so she was pretty close. Always sad when people you know go, and cancer seems like an all too common cause nowadays. Is it the food? The radiation? The toxic fumes in our atomic sphere? Maybe the whole trilogy? Living here on Earth's becoming a dangerous practice.

It's not been all bleak news and dark days though: I was at an e-commerce fair this Thursday, on behalf of my job: chatting, eating popcorn, and hopefully collecting a satisfactory chunk of information that could potentially benefit the company while I was there. Kind of nervous about that (I didn't need to be). I didn't stay long, since there weren't that many businesses relevant to ours, but I think I got the essentials down (yes I did). It was a short but good trip. That's all.

Compared to the regular week this one was irregularly much work. With that I mean work away from home: at the office at which I work part-time with web-shops and stuff. Four days in a row... which I know seems like little compared to the full-time jobs most people have, but I live a life on the side that takes up an equal - if not bigger - chunk of time, and usually spend my time with homework whenever I'm not at work, so thus it's been a busy stretch of days. Not sure I've managed to post any of my poems for the week, but I did manage a bunch of contemplative posts and stuff, and 6 more reviews. Here's last week.

And hey, did you notice the page count just jumped to 600? It's cause the anime archives are now all nice and integrated. There's not so much recent writing about anime on the blog, for self-explanatory reasons (I mean I don't watch that much now, and when I do I don't review each individual episode), but if you flip a few hundred pages back there's bound to be some excessive streams of episode imagery in between these regular posts... hope it doesn't interfere with the regular-reading experience. Though whoever browses all the way back to page 401 anyway?

Well, that's it for the week, and we are well and well into this one. Yell, if you feel like shouting! Cause life isn't well-spent: unless you vent. Ciao for the belated post of the week; until next one.

When time goes,
Then I slow,
My roll like,
I trap.

Whoever would've thought:
There's a metaphor in that.

I'm loafing,
I'm oozing,
I'm Oolong,
The ozone,
Is my home,
I'm fusing,
I'm morphing,
I know no,
Confusion,
I sow loads,
But yo yo,
You reap what,
You sow so,
Where go thou?
*Surprise*

Summer days lonely,
Sitting under the branches of a fallen oak,
Pondering jokes, squandering prose, yawning because:
I've been on since the break of dawn strong.
Drawn out on my lawn. Still we - Carrie and me,
Carry on.

I dreamt I was bent,
In the middle - so broken,
I couldn't see what was left.

In the window, a crest,
Of words now unspoken,
History's put to the test.

Our mind, our matter, Our money don't mean:
That you can see through me, and all in between.
Like summer and spring, with fall in between.
And winter and all that comes next.

It sits like a splinter,
it vexes me, vexes me,
The sphincter has me perplexed.

Is all this a joke?
Grand hoax - don't jest with me,
I don't understand your gest.

I sit like a letter in rows of our words,
in prose that I wrote,
Verbose like our world,

I see all the angles, they smile.
I see all the Angles, they smile.
I think I'm in danger, I' think I'll be tame.
I think and I say: I say I proclaim!

Speak my mind and it matters, the matter of mind.
Mind matters not money,
But money is blind.

It keeps shoving on me, like bundles of laundry,
It stays in my face - sensation!
And taste.

Keeps going and going, no matter how slow,
I roll it, I roll on, how far can I go?
How much can I take!!

My dreams are a stranger today,
Because today I am awake.