Artist-lovers do have a lot in common don't they? :}


And as with all the great passionate artists-lovers in the world, Frida Kahlo, Edgar Allan Poe, Jim Morrison and Tommy Lee, there are times when jealousy and insecurity turns me into a monster of near-murderous proportions (near lang ha). I know I feel this when my insides churn, the bones in my back seem to grate against each other and the tips of my fingers fill with a frigid sensation. This last one wasn’t any different. But then god, I told myself, I haven’t felt this ecstatic and tortured at the same time in such a long time. I am still alive, you need not pinch me. I resolve not to feel sad and drag myself into depression. Love and pain fuel me. It’s as everyday as dogshit on Basilan Street. I want to be an optimist till the day I freaking die, man. It was a dizzying three weeks filled with adventure and love and friendship and tears and colors and bright lights. Fucking well worth it.

So, there, I finally got it off my chest. Thanks for reading. And if you happen to pass by on Garnet Road tonight, look for the woman in black singing love songs at Café Agogo. God, she fucking knows what she sings about."
- Marge

This one is just too good to pass up so I want other people to read it. Apologies Margie, for ripping this one off without your consent.

I guess, in a way, it was the first time in a long while when I felt tortured and ecstatic at the same time as well. But is it not the fuel imbibed by the greatest artists in the world while making their greatest art?

I know it is. I'll pass by sometime ^_^ I wanna hear you sing. Be bringing booze too.

Though I've tried
I've fallen, I've sunk so low
I've messed up better I should know ...