rememberrhapsodyremember
a penchant for out-of-tune stuff

mar 24. reasons
was once asked for a reason for liking music so much. it's another je ne sais quoi thing. but i guess music takes no sides, and interpretation is up for grabs. so i guess that's it.
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feb 9. the end has a start
you know what. i am still riding on the highs from the "phew, thank god 2008 is over" effect; not that it was particularly bad, or that the year ahead would be like wowow, but i've got this 'back to basics' eureka lalala in my head and it's a good notion, albeit a strange one
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oct 1. the start
hopefully i'll update this stuff regularly though no one would read this;
we should spread good and sometimes obscure music around, but then again obscure loses its charm when it ain't obscure no more.

ok i was just talking sh*tt to fill up the space.







stikkytips
you really need to check this out

// YOUtube -> MP3
// the mossip blog

** bringmeback
archiving what was hot

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1680 x 1050 pixels | MAC
The Poetics of Sound
31.5.10
// 112 feeling so ghetto.

so good that i could even picture the hood.

This will be my last confession
Liberty can leave harsh impressions
I have little faith, forgive me for my past discretions
But we live and learn that history and past are lessons
I've always played the hand I was given
No exceptions here, humanity's driven

// last confession

As long as we get love we got some that will hate us,
We'll never change it's done for the faithless,
I don't care for favorites on somebody's play list

you'd think people would grow out of the pointlessness of
the popularity contest, further fueled by blind followers.
pity it doesn't change with age.

// still standing


23.5.10
// 111 two.three.four. (yi, sam, sei).

connection
attraction
confusion
seduction
fixation
obsession
confession
reaction.

have you had enough
you think you've had enough
but you haven't had enough of this

// pudong. the shanghai restoration project

sei, sam, yi, yat. (four, three, two, one)
now why am i looking back ?


21.5.10
// 110 bravery

I am just a poor boy
Though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocket full of mumbles such are promises
All lies and jests
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest

In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev'ry glove that layed him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains

i now know.
hopefully it ain't too late.