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[23 Jan 2006|09:05am] |
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mood |
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kh kh |
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music |
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darkest hour |
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šīs dienas bija visnotaļ jauki pavadītas ar "manu viņu".
šķiet visas šīs dienas degungals retu reizi tika salīgi dzestrajā gaisā, paspēju arī uz "p.o.t.m" , kurā protams vīlos, bet ja biļete dāvināta no sirds, tad jau nevar neaiziet.
šķiet mēs esam pilnīgi traki, bet nevar būt citādāk. es tikai mazliet, mazliet baidos, tā, ka retu reizi sirdī iespraucās tā bailīte, bet viņu aizdzen prom.
ljublju.
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[23 Jan 2006|04:33pm] |
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mood |
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nekāds |
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music |
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Million dead - living the dream |
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glupishka ja.
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[23 Jan 2006|05:20pm] |
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well you can tell by the way i move my feet that i’m a genuine insurrectionary - it’s a kind of nervous shuffle that contrasts so well with bolshevik bravado. and you can tell by the way i raise my hand - not in a fist but for a question. take out your manifestos and then put them away. i implore you to ignore every word i say. and if my status as a figure on a stage implies authority, i hope my caution and my age belies my humility, and will to take my rage and try to turn myself into a one-man landslide. let’s kick it off with a leafleting campaign and follow it up with some public meetings, pressing flesh and kissing babies as i smile and promise things are getting better. i am the party, the apparatchik and the grey bureaucracy. i am the secret police, manufacturing a constituency that doesn’t answer back. i found these words in my bedroom underneath old magazines. and i found this voice in my record collection - distorting tapes kicked analysis awake. you found this song but you didn’t question - swallowed the sleeve but didn’t see my tongue inside my cheek. i am the politburo, but i am the velvet revolution, a budapest kick from fifty-six and so: let’s all go hand in hand to the local polling station and make our own categories, then vote for ourselves.
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