Top Chef

I think I made some twitter out of my blog.

Grandpas, Tajmahal and Texy

Whoever invented/discovered titles is/was a genius.

*Texy is what we call my dog.

Sly commitment

It's October 1 in the US of A still.

Whoosh

I cheated.

Winter Fishing Tips

I'm the blind guy in a bus for the first time - I don't know where to hop in, where to sit, where to get down.

À la carte

I have a lot of work. I am incredibly lazy too. I do not like being accountable to anything, so I don't do drugs. Someone, not something, is my daily fix. I like it that way. I hate not writing, but sometimes, you convince yourself that it's for the better - not writing. I've had a lot of stuff going on that I want to tell you, but it doesn't make sense now. They're all fragments floating around in my head. It's not like someone died or anything. I'm happy, not content. It's just that I have too much to do, and not enough time or drive.

But now, I've promised myself I will write - a line a day, here. It could be juvenile, lame, whatever for all I care. I'm going to write.

Till I break my promise.

Crawling voices shouting angrily in the veins of my exploding head

Greetings, welcome to the 44th edition of "Into the head of..." Today, we spend some time in the cranial cavity of Emoto Wailmon, lead crooner of Sinkin' Park, named after the feeling you get after you realized you blew 15 bucks on yet another shitty album. Let's examine his thoughts as he stars in thought provoking music videos, each strikingly different from one another.

One step closer

Alright picture this : Bunch of white, suburban, emo kids wailing in a lonely tunnel jamming with levitating Asian monks. What a concept!

Crawling

We're all baldies now, we look serious that way. What's better than 5 emo kids implying that they cut themselves? Showing a leggy, pale goth chick getting all beaten up.

Papercut

Feel the rage man? That shit hurts okay? Just so you take us seriously, we'll jam in grandma's basement with the lights turned off.

In the end

Look at my piercing, my lip looks badass. Asian dude : we don't have money for fancy graphics, hope this 80s shit works. Look there's grass growing, and now it's raining. What a clever metaphor for my inner angst. Fuck, hope all this electronic gear doesn't short out.

Somewhere I Belong

Look at my jap toys, I diversify in my search to find inner peace. I'm also going for the contemplative, dark, mysterious emo look here - play along and head bang with me. Why the fuck is the guitarist wearing oversized cans? Must be the noise isolating kind. Fire, mysterious monks, lots of dust and freaky aliens rendered in cheap graphics. We're all about re-invention.

What I've done

Gay, contemplative hipster look. I'm all growed up now, so let's splice some mature stuff - Gandhi, JFK, Somalia, that chap who makes awesome gyros. Nothing expresses pain like my back up vocalist going "na na na na na".


Leave out all the rest

We're in space bitches! Nothing like cutting myself in the upper atmosphere. We've come a long way - from bitching about shit in an empty tunnel to crying in front of a solar flare.

Coming up : Concept album!!

Bonus  - Every episode of Nick Canon's Wild 'N Out

I'm a brotha, I'm too khoooooo
You a cracka, you're a suckaaaaaa!!!