the dirtiest clean i know

In the clock's over-loud ticking we hear the mockery of light-years for the span of our existence

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keeping inline with having an extrodinary amount of free time on my hands (true and false, as, i suppose that's entirely a mindframe of sorts) i find myself coming across some damn sweet blogs.

i would make a fine professional stalker, or, as Etana stated yesterday, an advisor! Yep. I agree. but i don't know how that would aid my love for creeping.

there's this blog they've made into a book, which is available on amazon, which is composed entirely of postcards with secrets on them that people send in from all over the world.


also, my street, the lovely and ever-dodgy Rue Ontario is taking on human like attributes, ....... yes, it's coming alive. With both exceeding numbers of people and lights and towers and no parking, its slowly transforming into a better, more classy (if that's possible) version of st.catherines. with my luck, which isn't much, i will have a camera soon to prove this phenomenon of lights and carrying-on-ness, as well as my underslept little eyeballs as proof of the noise. (dont worry, i love it, for the time being).

also, please watch Scorsese's After Hours, if you know what's good for you - as it is one damn fine and underated classic. ^

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meeeee too.