the sun is shining ... wont let it go down again ... all is right ... thank you three wise men, for the gifts you brought ...
everything is right again ... for a while ... i'm the king of the world!!! the last time i was this happy was when i was home and got my first letter from madcap. now i'm so happy again. dont go away.
but he stands at the other end of this river, and i have two more rungs of this bridge to cross, before i get to the other, longer, bigger bridge ... will i make it? dont slip out of my hands again madcap. i want you so so so much ...
feel so high. feel like walking upto everyone on the street and telling them :)
oh god - i hope this works. this one remaing bridge between us. else to have gotton so close to you & lost you ... it would be so sad ...
not that i dont love t, or he hasnt been good to me, but just that i think i have grown out of him. i need this ... atleast for now ... only madcap will do ...
who knows what tomorrow will bring?
Showing posts with label Madcap Series. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Madcap Series. Show all posts
madcap's best girl
"I feel certain that I am going mad again: I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness... I can't fight it any longer, I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work"
Her work was criticised for epitomizing the narrow world of the upper-middle class English intelligentsia, peopled with delicate, but ultimately trivial, self-centred, and overly introspective individuals. Some critics judged it to be lacking in universality and depth, without the power to communicate anything of emotional or ethical relevance to the disillusioned common reader, weary of the 1920s aesthetes who seemed to belong to an era definitely closed and buried.
River Ouse in 1941, near the village of Rodmell
Her work was criticised for epitomizing the narrow world of the upper-middle class English intelligentsia, peopled with delicate, but ultimately trivial, self-centred, and overly introspective individuals. Some critics judged it to be lacking in universality and depth, without the power to communicate anything of emotional or ethical relevance to the disillusioned common reader, weary of the 1920s aesthetes who seemed to belong to an era definitely closed and buried.
River Ouse in 1941, near the village of Rodmell
madcap returns
i'm so happy i could die
madcap is back, for a while ...
everytime you do that thing you do,
i want to stop the clock.
and stay here for eternity
in this sweet uncertainity.
where every little clue,
is loaded with fertility.
what is wrong with me?
i never dreamt so optimitically
time never danced around like this,
the world never diminished.
the hands on the clock
and my heart,
hold hands
and stop still
this like the dream
or a prelude
could life be so happy?
its bizzare! i never thought ...
other people act like this!
childish rush of wind and song
me, the sane and sensible!
atleast, in matters of this sort ...
where is my bitter, pessimistic heart?
should i tell myself, it will pass, or wait for the day to start ...
madcap is back, for a while ...
everytime you do that thing you do,
i want to stop the clock.
and stay here for eternity
in this sweet uncertainity.
where every little clue,
is loaded with fertility.
what is wrong with me?
i never dreamt so optimitically
time never danced around like this,
the world never diminished.
the hands on the clock
and my heart,
hold hands
and stop still
this like the dream
or a prelude
could life be so happy?
its bizzare! i never thought ...
other people act like this!
childish rush of wind and song
me, the sane and sensible!
atleast, in matters of this sort ...
where is my bitter, pessimistic heart?
should i tell myself, it will pass, or wait for the day to start ...
madcap files
his coming home. is it a sign?
he's the one that madcap freed
if i could meet him, ask him how
maybe i'd know madcap, i little more
http://www.hindustantimes.com/news/181_1931111,0008.htm
he's the one that madcap freed
if i could meet him, ask him how
maybe i'd know madcap, i little more
http://www.hindustantimes.com/news/181_1931111,0008.htm
My Madcap Collage
sweetheart, sweetheart, are you fast asleep? good.
do you remember me, how we used to be, dont you think ....
why dont you talk to me ...
is that a hint of accusation, in ur eyes?
do you remember me, how we used to be, dont you think ....
why dont you talk to me ...
is that a hint of accusation, in ur eyes?
I made this from all the syd barrett pictures i found online - None of these are mine, really. So if anyone has any objections, please let me know and I will take them off. Thanks :)
Rest of my Barrett stuff is here : recerche.blogspot.com/search/label/Madcap%20Series and here
disclaimer - none of these photos belong to me and i found them all on the internet. if anyone objects to them being used like this - please let me know.
Rest of my Barrett stuff is here : recerche.blogspot.com/search/label/Madcap%20Series and here.
Madcap Dreams
I woke up to you staring at me
Perched at the corner of my bed
I dont know your name,
or who you are, friend, foe, passing noone
You bring a touch of desperate restlessness
You tickle my gypsy feet
I wake up with a itch I cannot place
That I could not reach, that I cannot scratch
You are as unshakable, as you are elusive
As strong as you are nameless and unknowable
Everyday sensed, never felt
You are the uncapturable
If I could put my finger on it
I would know you, crazy, shapeless madness
Are you just madcap, come finally
I know he has many faces.
I can see the words frozen on your face.
You cant find the words, or strength,
to form them across the space between us
and i cant read, or trust in, what might not even be there
every now and then i think i see you
and then again time passes and its not there
it leaves me feeling a madness, a strange desperation
it leaves me with a breathless restless anticipation
i'm going crazy, but i dont know what of
You bring a touch of desperate restlessness
You play with my half mad mind
you make me dream of silly things, see phantoms in the daylight
i'm scared of this feeling and its growing
the underline of ecstacy apart
i need to get past this whirlpool un-sucked-in
in need to get past this night alive
i need to be calm and friendly
the underline of indifference is what's hard
Perched at the corner of my bed
I dont know your name,
or who you are, friend, foe, passing noone
You bring a touch of desperate restlessness
You tickle my gypsy feet
I wake up with a itch I cannot place
That I could not reach, that I cannot scratch
You are as unshakable, as you are elusive
As strong as you are nameless and unknowable
Everyday sensed, never felt
You are the uncapturable
If I could put my finger on it
I would know you, crazy, shapeless madness
Are you just madcap, come finally
I know he has many faces.
I can see the words frozen on your face.
You cant find the words, or strength,
to form them across the space between us
and i cant read, or trust in, what might not even be there
every now and then i think i see you
and then again time passes and its not there
it leaves me feeling a madness, a strange desperation
it leaves me with a breathless restless anticipation
i'm going crazy, but i dont know what of
You bring a touch of desperate restlessness
You play with my half mad mind
you make me dream of silly things, see phantoms in the daylight
i'm scared of this feeling and its growing
the underline of ecstacy apart
i need to get past this whirlpool un-sucked-in
in need to get past this night alive
i need to be calm and friendly
the underline of indifference is what's hard
requiem for a dream
i thought you had come home, when you stopped by the door
that you would knock, and with thundering heart
and trembling hands, i prepared, not to open the door.
how would i send you away? how would i stop you from stepping in?
into my horrible, dirty, broken house ...
but as you passed i realised
it was just a pebble in your shoe,
or else curiousity, in a new part of town.
and in the darkness i hadnt seen,
the shadow of someone else by ur side
its just like it was in the dream
everything u ever dreamed of, so close
and then dissapear. life is never as it seems.
u get some, you want some.
they never meet.
dont you ever wish you could command hearts ...
choose when and where and how?
dont you ever wish, you could give when asked
and to whoever the asker was ...
we could all live and love, efficiantly, and none of it wasted unasked.
that you would knock, and with thundering heart
and trembling hands, i prepared, not to open the door.
how would i send you away? how would i stop you from stepping in?
into my horrible, dirty, broken house ...
but as you passed i realised
it was just a pebble in your shoe,
or else curiousity, in a new part of town.
and in the darkness i hadnt seen,
the shadow of someone else by ur side
its just like it was in the dream
everything u ever dreamed of, so close
and then dissapear. life is never as it seems.
u get some, you want some.
they never meet.
dont you ever wish you could command hearts ...
choose when and where and how?
dont you ever wish, you could give when asked
and to whoever the asker was ...
we could all live and love, efficiantly, and none of it wasted unasked.
consequences
in my little scared timid non confrontational arrogent egoistic tangential ways, could i have ever gotten it through to you, how much you hurt me? and this. i wish i hadnt listened to you on this. now life will never be the same, in so many ways. so much more regret, as if i didnt have enough desertions in my backpack already. yes, i am feeling resentful. and yes, i do know its not really anyone's fault but mine. but still, u cant be rational all the time ;)
i often wonder who 'most people' go to when they feel desperate. Do they feel desperate. this strange rush, that barbie call 'the exam exam feeling' ... funny but apt. ur cant define it. or pin it down. this is not madcap calling. this is u knowing u fucked up big time and there is no recall. the dead have died, and the lost are gone.
its my own fault. i didnt know my own mind. I never usually listen to anyone. I am polite, and sweet. I am too lazy too argue. But I usually go do my own thing anyway. Atleast eventually. Thing is, noone but me ever had the full facts. so noone but me can make the right decision, however older, wiser, smarter they are. But sometimes I forget that. The decision seems to big and I panic and listen to what people say. And later, I regret. I feel a little resentful, but I know thats not fair, because if someone told you something, they thought it was for the best. But still, the heart doesnt listen to logic, sometimes.
there's no poison more potent than guilt. and regret. now, that the shock of losing you, and the weight of knowing its for good, has settled into this unfeeling numbness, I miss the bitter sharpness of the pain. Sometimes.
sometimes i forget. what i am. where i come from. i play with the other children in class and laugh and sing. those are the worst times, because its only time playing a trick on you. when it comes back, it comes with a bang.
Remembering: http://purpleblueorange.blogspot.com/2004/10/shadows-of-sun.html
so there i was, walking through a crowd of stranger, smile and nods at hand, to be dispensed, exchanged, like loose change. Suddenly, I see you appear, looming like a giant over the gold painted organ. I started to take a picture, before I knew what I was doing, in excitement, to send home to you, when suddenly I remembered, you've left me and gone back home, to your palace, with organs and blue tiled rooms.
So I recollect myself, and wind my the thoughts back up and place them in my other palm, and stuff it in my pocket. And when I pull it out again, bring out a smile and some silly question and paste it.
Sometimes the best way to stop people asking what you're thinking, is to keep them talking about what they are thinking. Other times, the only way is to distract them with something else you, quite easily, might have been thinking.
The walls of the fortress are high. The sentries parade non-stop, on the bare, forbidding walls. Inside its cold and bleak. Outside, its sun and flowers. Inside, just nothingness grows. And at the heart of it all, is the museum.
i often wonder who 'most people' go to when they feel desperate. Do they feel desperate. this strange rush, that barbie call 'the exam exam feeling' ... funny but apt. ur cant define it. or pin it down. this is not madcap calling. this is u knowing u fucked up big time and there is no recall. the dead have died, and the lost are gone.
its my own fault. i didnt know my own mind. I never usually listen to anyone. I am polite, and sweet. I am too lazy too argue. But I usually go do my own thing anyway. Atleast eventually. Thing is, noone but me ever had the full facts. so noone but me can make the right decision, however older, wiser, smarter they are. But sometimes I forget that. The decision seems to big and I panic and listen to what people say. And later, I regret. I feel a little resentful, but I know thats not fair, because if someone told you something, they thought it was for the best. But still, the heart doesnt listen to logic, sometimes.
there's no poison more potent than guilt. and regret. now, that the shock of losing you, and the weight of knowing its for good, has settled into this unfeeling numbness, I miss the bitter sharpness of the pain. Sometimes.
sometimes i forget. what i am. where i come from. i play with the other children in class and laugh and sing. those are the worst times, because its only time playing a trick on you. when it comes back, it comes with a bang.
Remembering: http://purpleblueorange.blogspot.com/2004/10/shadows-of-sun.html
so there i was, walking through a crowd of stranger, smile and nods at hand, to be dispensed, exchanged, like loose change. Suddenly, I see you appear, looming like a giant over the gold painted organ. I started to take a picture, before I knew what I was doing, in excitement, to send home to you, when suddenly I remembered, you've left me and gone back home, to your palace, with organs and blue tiled rooms.
So I recollect myself, and wind my the thoughts back up and place them in my other palm, and stuff it in my pocket. And when I pull it out again, bring out a smile and some silly question and paste it.
Sometimes the best way to stop people asking what you're thinking, is to keep them talking about what they are thinking. Other times, the only way is to distract them with something else you, quite easily, might have been thinking.
The walls of the fortress are high. The sentries parade non-stop, on the bare, forbidding walls. Inside its cold and bleak. Outside, its sun and flowers. Inside, just nothingness grows. And at the heart of it all, is the museum.
Who can it be now - is it Madcap at the door?
she had been restless throughout the evening, more so than usual. she couldnt concentrate, so she tried to rest for a while. but he got into her dreams and woke her up. in her dream he was strangling him. like all those stories and fairytales, of us and them, one each, joined, like anchors tied round athletic feet. she woke up with a start, in a sweat. she thought she heard him laughing. was it at the window, or in her head? she thought she heard footsteps pacing outside her door. had she dreamt it, or had he finally come? no one can describe that terrible, all consuming, gut wrenching panic, of thinking he's outside the door, of waiting for madcap to raise his hand, and knock. i forget ... was that Toto? same as Africa, i think. getting old.
Calling Madcap
I've stood here for so long, at the fringes of your world. From my beginning, I have been yours. From the first time our eyes met, the first time my heart beat, from the first time you smiled, I was crazy.
Seven years, it took me, to gather my wits. To break the spell, and chase the sorcerer. Three years to cross the seven seas. Now I'm at your door, finally.
I'm calling in everyway I know. Please, my love, hear me. I'll be good for you. I'll be good to you, please, baby, dont deny me.
At the doorstep, in the cold, in the rain, in your cold land. The temple gates are locked and sealed, the priests with the keys wont understand. The King is in his parlour, far far away. The Bishop's off, to foreign lands, searching for new prey. They've changed your name, to better hide you. Why are they afraid? Work some magic, walk one step; baby, come and get me. I was born, just to love you, without "us", what's the point ...
Seven years, it took me, to gather my wits. To break the spell, and chase the sorcerer. Three years to cross the seven seas. Now I'm at your door, finally.
I'm calling in everyway I know. Please, my love, hear me. I'll be good for you. I'll be good to you, please, baby, dont deny me.
At the doorstep, in the cold, in the rain, in your cold land. The temple gates are locked and sealed, the priests with the keys wont understand. The King is in his parlour, far far away. The Bishop's off, to foreign lands, searching for new prey. They've changed your name, to better hide you. Why are they afraid? Work some magic, walk one step; baby, come and get me. I was born, just to love you, without "us", what's the point ...
Madcap Calling
For a while, I had forgotten you. When you came knocking at my window last night, you made me jump. Yes, I had forgotten all about you, for a while. Isnt it strange how strong this bond is? Though I was never yours, and you were never mine. Yet, we always knew, you and I, there was something unknown pulling us to eachother. I flirted with you, but stayed at the edges. I could no less resist the deep, dark force of that attraction, than I could let go of the ledge of my world, at whose very edge I crouched. I hung on, for all I was worth. When you came too close, I closed my eyes to hide. When you went too far, I came after you again. And we danced.
I'm sorry. It must have been such a terrible thing to do; but I was scared of you. I watched fascinated, every star you plucked, every life you lived, every form you took. Each dizzyingly bright, heartbreakingly dark. I watched, breathless, as you swung them and up and you danced. The dizzying heights. The lurching swings. The bravery, The greatness, The heroism, The Scale, The mastery ... and in the end they gave in to you, almost all. (All but him. How he fought! You still scrape ur chalk on his window, while I watch, but he keeps fighting on) You flew them to the skies, made the whole world change, while you held their hands, but they never come back again. Almost all.
So spectacular, the visions, the sounds, the dreams; yet I was scared to let go of the simple, the normal, the ordinary. My little life. Maybe a little faded and dull, maybe a small, maybe boring, day in day out, maybe laced with regret, as I kissed my pillow goodnight, but my own, safe and simple life.
I never got closer to you than that. To gasp at you dancing with your latest bright star. And a part of me wished I could go along, on the magic carpet ride, like a child, kneeling at a window looking out at the magic silver snow, on a indigo night; but I was scared of the dark.
I'm reading her again. That was the best song. You whispered in my ears, that stones to wings, and you flew her through the skies; painting clouds with the ink around her eyes, which you wiped. And I know I'll listen to him tonight. His picture's here, is right by my side. Red and Blue and Purple; With the guitars, locked doors, and black ringed eyes. When the music was over, did you turn out the lights?
Yet, you never let me go completely. Every now and then you're back; at night. You stay a few days and go away again. And every now and then I see you smile; behind my eyes. And I at night I'm torn between the fear that you'll come calling me and that you'll never come for me again.
I'm sorry. It must have been such a terrible thing to do; but I was scared of you. I watched fascinated, every star you plucked, every life you lived, every form you took. Each dizzyingly bright, heartbreakingly dark. I watched, breathless, as you swung them and up and you danced. The dizzying heights. The lurching swings. The bravery, The greatness, The heroism, The Scale, The mastery ... and in the end they gave in to you, almost all. (All but him. How he fought! You still scrape ur chalk on his window, while I watch, but he keeps fighting on) You flew them to the skies, made the whole world change, while you held their hands, but they never come back again. Almost all.
So spectacular, the visions, the sounds, the dreams; yet I was scared to let go of the simple, the normal, the ordinary. My little life. Maybe a little faded and dull, maybe a small, maybe boring, day in day out, maybe laced with regret, as I kissed my pillow goodnight, but my own, safe and simple life.
I never got closer to you than that. To gasp at you dancing with your latest bright star. And a part of me wished I could go along, on the magic carpet ride, like a child, kneeling at a window looking out at the magic silver snow, on a indigo night; but I was scared of the dark.
I'm reading her again. That was the best song. You whispered in my ears, that stones to wings, and you flew her through the skies; painting clouds with the ink around her eyes, which you wiped. And I know I'll listen to him tonight. His picture's here, is right by my side. Red and Blue and Purple; With the guitars, locked doors, and black ringed eyes. When the music was over, did you turn out the lights?
Yet, you never let me go completely. Every now and then you're back; at night. You stay a few days and go away again. And every now and then I see you smile; behind my eyes. And I at night I'm torn between the fear that you'll come calling me and that you'll never come for me again.
Wouldn't You Miss Me?
Syd Barrett 11
Originally uploaded by neocaeczaristic.
Syd Barrett 08
Originally uploaded by neocaeczaristic.
he's got his bike
Originally uploaded by Janesdead.
"I don't think I'm easy to talk about. I've got a very irregular head. And I'm not anything that you think I am anyway." Rolling Stone, Dec 1971
"What exactly is a dream, and what exactly is a joke?" Jugaband Blues
You've been on my mind.
A vague grey-ish blue.
Now that you've crossed the gates
Can you come back and tell me,
Where do clouds go when they evaporate?
I think there are terrapins, faeries, & gnomes.
Were there little people to welcome you,
Or monsters and dwarfs and men?
Is it all strange and new,
Or is there a sense of deja vu?
Is life coming back to you?
Did you meet her there?
Did she recognise and greet you?
Stones in her wet pockets,
Lest she fly away.
Like a frail black cloud, on a rainy day.
Where you still stoned? You know, I was always frightened ...
Do you miss here? Its raining.
Is it nice there, or were you scared?
Or are you still laughing, Madcap?
Paint me a picture, frame it in a silver song,
And slide it down a rainbow
Or keep it by the Gates, above the Wall; guess you've broken through them now.
Wouldnt you miss me? I shall, so shall we all.
Not sure how to say it. Been feeling strange since I heard. Another one gone. We'll be running out of idols pretty soon. There'll be no more giants on the moon. The feeling's been humming somewhere at the back of my mind since then. Looking at every footstep, echo and reflection he left behind; and all the shrines. Something about the brevity of his role on stage, weighed against the impact, the rememberance, the worship, reminds me of Harper Lee. He was a Genius.
However, that is not why I loved him, or why I have been feeling strange. In some obscure way, he was one of Us; Like Us he must have suspected it inside him. The inversion; Of thought, love, dreams. Twisted. Ugly. Turned in. Obsessive, fearful introspection: like a child scared to step outside his room or like a child looking for monsters in the wardrobe, or like a god-prince, hypnotised by doom. Lay up nights in fear of it coming. Looked for it within endlessly. searching for its shadows & signs. Hiding it half fearfully, half lovingly, from Them, lest they lock Us away. That was the common thread; And it always wove out differently. Each fought or went down differently.
An old interview: http://pinkfloydhyperbase.dk/scraps/watts.htm
from outside, looking in
i rarely go to anyones blog anymore. my net time is too limited. but i went to his yesterday. i wanted to show pong what he writes. its amazing how well he writes. his pictures, his poems, his words, his songs everything amazes me. i wonder how he is in real life.
thats something cool about this cyber life. you read what all these people write, everyday. and you have no clue, who they are, what they are like, what they like ... but you form this fixed image in your head ... mira's a momma angel, anu is my dearest forever-weary friend, diya reminds me of my kid sister, poly is a brat, jill is a darling, fgs is an angel ... but we really know nothing about them, do we? we just see one tiny aspect, one face of so many that each person has and like the blind men and the elephant, we draw our conclusions
but then, is real life any different? no. its just the same. i was talking to my dad about this just now. thats the best part about the dubai vacations. always. the early morning chats - all 4 of us - before falling asleep over our whiskey on the rocks and the room full of smoke ... we are such a madcap family. and i love it.
coming back, we never know. what people really are like. or we dont want to know. its like a library. when we join a very big library, we get hooked on to one section wherevere we find a few books we know and love. and we seldon bother the explore the whole library. thats why we often feel that have rediscovered someone we knew for ages ... but in our blindness we dont recognise this rediscovery for what it is. instead, we say they have changed, or we feel betrayed, or let down. but in all probabality, what we see is something that was always there. we just didnt chose to see it till now.
and does the same thing not apply to ourselves. are we not as blind and as blindly confident in our understanding of ourselves, as well as others. i, for one, dont know myself at all. everyday I discover something new about myself. its fascinating. when I was younger I too thought that I am changing, evolving everyday ... but now I feel, perhaps I am just on an everlasting journey of self discovery. and perhaps thats all Im here for. and perhaps its not such a bad thing, this self obsession.
thats something cool about this cyber life. you read what all these people write, everyday. and you have no clue, who they are, what they are like, what they like ... but you form this fixed image in your head ... mira's a momma angel, anu is my dearest forever-weary friend, diya reminds me of my kid sister, poly is a brat, jill is a darling, fgs is an angel ... but we really know nothing about them, do we? we just see one tiny aspect, one face of so many that each person has and like the blind men and the elephant, we draw our conclusions
but then, is real life any different? no. its just the same. i was talking to my dad about this just now. thats the best part about the dubai vacations. always. the early morning chats - all 4 of us - before falling asleep over our whiskey on the rocks and the room full of smoke ... we are such a madcap family. and i love it.
coming back, we never know. what people really are like. or we dont want to know. its like a library. when we join a very big library, we get hooked on to one section wherevere we find a few books we know and love. and we seldon bother the explore the whole library. thats why we often feel that have rediscovered someone we knew for ages ... but in our blindness we dont recognise this rediscovery for what it is. instead, we say they have changed, or we feel betrayed, or let down. but in all probabality, what we see is something that was always there. we just didnt chose to see it till now.
and does the same thing not apply to ourselves. are we not as blind and as blindly confident in our understanding of ourselves, as well as others. i, for one, dont know myself at all. everyday I discover something new about myself. its fascinating. when I was younger I too thought that I am changing, evolving everyday ... but now I feel, perhaps I am just on an everlasting journey of self discovery. and perhaps thats all Im here for. and perhaps its not such a bad thing, this self obsession.
listening to ...
Everyone who needs a friend
Every life that has no end
Every knee not ready to bend
Is falling, falling at your feet
I've come crawling, now I'm falling at your feet
and madcap laughs
Ive paused, Ive frozen, what can I say ... where have I lost myself. I miss me, that used to be, so much that it hurts
I cant even cry ... the tears are frozen too. I am amber ... in the glittering beads in a big smooth palm ... frozen in this moment of time ... the butterfly trapped in the amber that paused ... today it owes its entire existence to the very same thing that crushes and imprisons it ... forever ... it will never escape
But I drove so far today ... lol ... by my stds! took the car to a mechanic. full office return traffic :) gawd I was so nervous .... and I remembered what jinx said and started laughing. dec is so far away ...
Everyone who needs a friend
Every life that has no end
Every knee not ready to bend
Is falling, falling at your feet
I've come crawling, now I'm falling at your feet
and madcap laughs
Ive paused, Ive frozen, what can I say ... where have I lost myself. I miss me, that used to be, so much that it hurts
I cant even cry ... the tears are frozen too. I am amber ... in the glittering beads in a big smooth palm ... frozen in this moment of time ... the butterfly trapped in the amber that paused ... today it owes its entire existence to the very same thing that crushes and imprisons it ... forever ... it will never escape
But I drove so far today ... lol ... by my stds! took the car to a mechanic. full office return traffic :) gawd I was so nervous .... and I remembered what jinx said and started laughing. dec is so far away ...