My Shoe Addiction Is Itching Again...

Nothing On My Mind, Everything On My Mind

I wish I know what's next.

Grace

"Each time this song is play,I will think of you..."

This may not be the exact words, and this might not be the blissful song of all, but he said it,and I'm touched, as this is the first time I am associated with a song in someone mind.

There's the moon asking to stay
Long enough for the clouds to fly me away
Well it's my time coming, i'm not afraid, afraid to die

My fading voice sings of love
But she cries to the clicking of time,
Wait in the fire...

And she weeps on my arm
Walking to the bright lights in sorrow
Oh drink a bit of wine we both might go tomorrow
Oh my love...

And the rain is falling and i believe my time has come
And it reminds me of the pain i might leave behind
Wait in the fire...

And i feel them drown my name
So easy to know and forget with this kiss
But i'm not afraid to go, baby it's all because of you
But i'm not afraid to go, but it goes so slow, slow
Wait in the fire, wait in the fire
Wait in the fire...

...don't you take it away from me

High Fidelity by Nick Hornby

I could have finish reading this book in a day, but I didn’t. Simply because I like the way Hornby weaves his words together and I keep having images of John Cusack going through the dialogs in my head in the movie. Maybe in another way, I’m also enjoying this reading in a melancholy romantic way. Anyway, I can’t help but extracting his words…which is very much in tune to what I have been thinking or thought I should have known. Also, The Rob Fleming’s top 5 list of everything…relationships, albums, movies…prompt me to think what’s my top 5, in love, in my closet (or suitcase in this case), and in life…and here are my top 5 highlights from High Fidelity. (okay, I'm being greedy, it's top 8, because I'm not Rob Fleming...)

1. And that's the last time we will ever speak, probably. "No problem": the last words I ever say to somebody I have been reasonably close to before our lives take different directions. Weird, eh? You spend Christmas at somebody's house, you worry about their operations, you give them hugs and kisses and flowers, you see them in their dressing gown . . . and then, bang, that's it. Gone forever. And sooner or later there will be another mum, another Christmas, more varicose veins. They're all the same. Only the addresses, and the colors of the dressing gown, change.

2. You need as much ballast as possible to stop you from floating away; you need people around you, things going on, otherwise life is like some film where the money ran out, and there are no sets, or locations, or supporting actors, and it's just one bloke on his own staring into the camera with nothing to do and nobody to speak to, and who'd believe in this character then? I've got to get more stuff, more clutter, more detail in here, because at the moment I'm in danger of falling off the edge.

3. What went wrong? Nothing and everything. Nothing: we had a nice evening, we had sex that humiliated neither of us, we even had a predawn conversation that I and maybe she will remember for ages and ages. Everything: all that stupid business when I couldn't decide whether I was going home or not, and in the process giving her the impression that I was a halfwit; the way that we got on brilliantly and then had nothing much to say to each other; the manner of our parting; the fact that I'm no nearer to appearing in the record sleeve notes than I was before I met her. It's not a case of the glass being half full or half empty; more that we tipped a whole half-pint into an empty pint pot. I had to see how much was there, though, and now I know.

4. You know, you're with someone, and you start to say something, and then you stop, and she goes "What?" and you go "Nothing," and she goes, "Please say it," and you go, "No, it'll sound stupid," and then she makes you spit it out, even though you'd been intending to say it all along, and she thinks it's all the more valuable for being hard-won. Maybe she knew all the time that you were messing about, but she doesn't mind, anyway. It's like a quote: it's the nearest any of us gets to being in the movies, those few days when you decide that you like somebody enough to tell her that you love her, and you don't want to muck it up with a glob of dour, straightforward, no-nonsense sincerity.

5. I enjoy my birthday, but today I don't feel so good about it. Birthdays should be suspended in years like this one: there should be a law, of man if not of nature, that you are only allowed to age when things are ticking along nicely. What do I want to be thirty-six for now? I don't. It's not convenient. Rob Fleming's life is frozen at the moment, and he refuses to get any older. Please retain all cards, cakes, and presents for use on another occasion.

6. So where does this get me? The logic of it all is that I play a percentage game. I'm thirty-six now, right? And let's say that most fatal diseases, cancer, heart disease, whatever, hit you after the age of fifty. You might be unlucky, and snuff it early, but the fifty-plus age group get more than their fair share of bad stuff happening to them. So to play safe, you stop then: a relationship every couple of years for the next fourteen years, and then get out, stop dead, give it up. It makes sense. Will I explain this to whomever I'm seeing? Maybe. It's fairer, probably. And less emotional, somehow, than the usual mess that ends relationships. "You're going to die, so there's not much point in us carrying on, is there?" It's perfectly acceptable if someone's emigrating, or returning to their own country, to stop a relationship on the grounds that any further involvement would be too painful, so why not death? The separation that death entails has got to be more painful than the separation of emigration, surely? I mean, with emigration, you can always go with her. You can always say to yourself, "Oh, fxxk it, I'll pack it all in and go and be a cowboy in Texas/tea-picker in India," etc. You can't do that with the big D, though, can you? Unless you take the Romeo route, and if you think about it ...

7. "See, I've always been afraid of marriage because of, you know, ball and chain, I want my freedom, all that. But when I was thinking about that stupid girl I suddenly saw it was the opposite: that if you got married to someone you know you love, and you sort yourself out, it frees you up for other things. I know you don't know how you feel about me, but I do know how I feel about you. I know I want to stay with you and I keep pretending otherwise, to myself and you, and we just limp on and on. It's like we sign a new contract every few weeks or so, and I don't want that anymore. And I know that if we got married I'd take it seriously, and I wouldn't want to mess about."

8. “Just because it's a relationship, and it's based on soppy stuff, it doesn't mean you can't make intellectual decisions about it. Sometimes you just have to, otherwise you'll never get anywhere. That's where I've been going wrong. I've been letting the weather and my stomach muscles and a great chord change in a Pretenders single make up my mind for me, and I want to do it for myself."

Moving

Okay,I'm going to do another round of moving, that will be my third times in eight months time.

Alright, D. H. Lawrence moved about 100 times, to several countries. Invariably, he wanted to establish a utopian community, perhaps in Florida, and lamented an unsatisfying relationship with his wife, believing that a “blood brotherhood” with a man might represent home. Virginia Woolf fled sexual abuse by her stepbrothers in her childhood home in Hyde Park Gate and spent the rest of her life flipping houses, renovating and searching for the oxygen she needed to write.

I don't have all the above grand reasons except to have my own little solitary world sharing with a friend and his dog. However nobody beats Virginia Woolfs who ultimately convincing us that, for some, moving can be paired with madness.

Where will I be next after this move? Will I be carrying the suitcase again and asking where is my next destination...

The DB's Spirit

David Beckham kind of inspire me today.

And here I quote:

Asked whether an appearance at the World Cup in South Africa, should England qualify, could provide a natural conclusion to what would be a 14-year career at this level, Beckham replied: "No. I've always said that even if I'm not picked, I want to be available while I'm still playing. That's the way I see it. I'd love to go to the World Cup and be involved in every squad that gets picked up to that time. I don't think I'd ever retire."

Eight-Block-Long Love Letter

Interesting stuff you can find online and I totally digg this!

In this episode of Interviews 50 Cents, Alex Chadwick speaks with a storyteller who drew inspiration from a declarion of love written in sidewalk chalk over eight city blocks.

Click here to see .