Her wind was visable and travelled over the hills of sorrow, a ghost like green glow, she had no body to show, but she shined bright in the sky, cruising with the little dipper, dripping ooze and stuff.

Panting on a pile of pillow, she had her way at last, finally concluded, the past was in the past.

Once upon a Paris, while I wander weak and lonely, I found a cafe for the losers, and sitting with my latte I gazed at some random face, relaxed and eating luxury, the night stars were coming, wishing me years of drunken sorrow.

Bring in the kittens!

I see magic!

New song: "Too Stupid for Love" to hit your ears soon.

When your ex wife holds you tight, don't let her break your ribs.

It was her breasts that made all the important decisions.

They call it the dark side because you can't see it with your eyes.

I may be hopeless, but not a hopeless romantic.