The lifting of the fog that's been sticking around here for the past week, here's a song by Sigur Rós.

Hafssól


bakvið skýjaból vaknar sól úr dvala
svalar sér við kalda dropa regnsins
leikur sér við heita loga eldsins
býr til regnboga

behind a vessel of clouds, a sun wakes up from its lethargy
refreshes itself with some little raindrops
plays with the hot flames of the fire
makes rainbows

So a few years back, I came into possession of this book called The Monster Garden. It was a bit small for my usual repertoire, but none the less, I read it. I was shocked at how good it was. I became immediately infatuated with it. 

The book is about a girl named Frances Stein, Frankie for short. Her father works at the town laboratories, and she gets teased frequently for it (her classmates call her Frankenstein). One day her father took her older brother, David, around the laboratories. When David returns, he's stolen some living tissue, claiming they were just going to throw it out. Frankie persuades David to give her a little bit. She places the little bit of tissue on a saucer and pricks her own thumb and bleeds herself into the saucer a little. The next morning, the unthinkable happens.


I would highly recommend this book, especially if you're one who doesn't exactly love a long read.


Something else I would recommend is visiting my friend, Chris, on his blog about music. It's super-coolio.

<http://chrismusic2009.blogspot.com/>

Some movies that I would suggest (some are not for the squeamish.. they will be marked with an X)

A Clockwork Orange (x)
Let the Right One In (x)
Like Minds ( also known as Murderous Intent)  (x)
Heima
Wayne's World
It's a Wonderful Life

Have you ever tried contorting your hand into an interesting position and then holding in front of a light?

It's fun. Try it. TRY IT NOW.

Mosquito bite count: 59.

One more reason to hate summer.

And I'm sorry about you and me.
And I'm sorry about us.
You try to give it your best,
but to what end? Saliva.
You may no think so at first,
but I'm your designated driver.
But this roadside is not yours or mine.
And it's about time that I stop.
She is the gray weather at the end of my tether.
I didn't quite make it, I had to forsake it.
And as I sit on the train,
I can taste her in my saliva.
But i still depend on my Thursday friend, Saliva.
And there's no book about you and me.
Only snippets remain.
I get a light! I get a light from everyone.
That's right! So undetermined,
all I do now is just horrible and mean.
I used to think that she and me could only be just fine,
and to begin with nothing seems wrong.
But it's not a happy song.
And I'm sorry about you and me.
And I'm sorry about us.
I'm finding out that you can't mess around with saliva.
And I drive a lot, 'cause I can't stop thinking about her.
(I'm in your hands).
I'll be yours, you'll be mine.
It'll be fine. Intertwined.
Wet your dried out lips with saliva.
What's more strange than this? Your saliva.
If I did not miss your saliva,
if my lips could kiss your saliva still.

A Frenger and his friend, The Comical Bird.

One day, a frenger and his friend, the comical bird, found an opening to one of the great Caves of Secrecy. I suggest we explore this cave. said the frenger, who was not quite a friend, but not quite a stranger. The comical bird, who always said the opposite of what he meant replied: I think that's a good idea. And so they entered the cave. I like it here said the comical bird. It is not the least bit frightening. As they had walked for a while they saw in the distance a yellow light. I wonder what that light is said the frenger. You stay here said the comical bird, terrified. I'll go and investigate. Well I want to find out what it is. said the frenger and advanced towards the light. The bird lagged a few steps behind. Look! said the frenger, They are some sort of crystalline trees! They gave of a phosphorus light. It's so pretty! said the frenger. He felt blissfully at peace. The frenger softly waved this hand in front of the crystalline trees. Watching it in the backlight, new ideas took form in his frenger-head. Touch it! cried the comical bird, still keeping it's distance. It probably isn't a trap! But it was too late. The frenger reached forth his hand and was swallowed all up by the crystalline trees. Oh yes! cried the comical bird, tears welling in it's eyes. My friend is not gone forever and always! The comical bird was so sad, it hid away in dark places and never returned.

The End.




note: I didn't write this story.