OK, so I read Twilight. As I was reading I was thinking of an extensive review to put up here. The thoughts of a grown (getting there) man on such a piece of work, the place of the genre in today's literary environment. A character analysis based on the comparative depths of the female/male characters, a plot unravelling, examining the holes (think a colander). A meaningful delve into the language and vocabulary of the novel and an investigation into why a writer with a supposed English degree keeps ending her sentences with the word 'of'.

But in reality, you only have to glance at the back cover where it is revealed that Edward is a vampire and that our protagonist is going to fall in love with him to know the basic gist of the book. In fact, you could actually jump right in at page 200 (that's 50% of the way through) because that's the point where the scales of dramatic irony fall and Bella learns that Edward is a vampire and that she is in love with him.

So my summation of the book is that you only need to know one thing:

There's this really hot vampire, OK?

And her name is Alice.

It's been a long time since I wrote something here.

It's also time that I got on with doing some revision for Finals.

Coincidence? Most likely not.

I've changed since my last post here. I'm not sure what the name for such a transformation is, but perhaps I can describe it with a few examples.

• Then, I used to think that Rachel was the girl in Friends most suited to me. I thought she was prettiest, funniest. Yet somehow recently, I've felt my heart revolving towards Phoebe. I don't even know why I thought Rachel was interesting. Now I see her as shallow and vapid. Phoebe is the one who is kind, inventive and artistic. She has a reconcilatory streak which I can identify with. And she's a dab hand at the guitar.
• Then, I didn't like dancing. Now I do. I've cut the floor with various friends. I've even been clubbing. Goth Night is great.
• Then, I listened to Last.fm. Now I listen to Spotify (and enjoy it much more).
• Then, I was in a relationship. Now I'm single.
• Then, I was 20. Now I'm 21.

Perhaps the name I'm looking for is growing up? Yet it doesn't feel like a transcendent upward motion. More like a sideways sprawling...

I have just decided where I want to take my honeymoon.

http://www.getalookatthis.com/2008/02/10/the-amazing-faroe-islands/

I want to hole up in a grass-roofed cabin under the aurora and snuggle NOW.

Something perfect happened to me yesterday. To understand it, you need the following information:

- I am going to Costa Rica this summer for a month with some of the crew from the Christian Union here in Oxford University (OICCU, if you want to be official), where we will be teaching shanty town kids and building stuff (we don't quite know what yet).

- To raise money for aforementioned trip we held a cake sale at our meeting on Wednesday and then sold the leftovers at a Bible study yesterday evening.

- We didn't manage to sell them all.

It had been a good evening, studying Isaiah 10 and thinking about God's sovereignty over bad situations (i.e. he turns evil into good). I'd encouraged one of my friends to actively choose holiness and experienced how wonderful it is to have a girl run her hand up your back in an expression of love and connection. I was just a bit disappointed that we didn't shift all the cakes, because we really do need the money and I didn't like the feeling of trying to push cake off on people who didn't really want it, especially at our inflated "all-to-a-good-cause" prices. As I wandered home through the newly-opened streets (apparently the police closed off the roads around the church during our study - something about dog-fights, I think), I spotted a guy sitting on a piece of cardboard outside one of the stupid boutiques on the High Street, huddled down in his coat, and I stopped to ask him how his night was going. He was a dude I've met before, he's called Jeff and he studied Archaeology here a long time ago. He said that it was rubbish and rainy, compounded by the fact that it was his birthday today (he was 42). This was the point where I was able to say, "I think I can help with that" and produced some fairy cakes. For him, on his birthday. It was an incredible moment - I hope it made his day as much as it made mine. Those cakes were leftovers which were a failure for me and the others who made them in aid of the trip, but for him they were his birthday treat. And as I sat and talked to him, two women came up (one more talkative and drunk than the other) and they took him for a drink. I left at that point, but Jeff's 42nd had been a cool one for him and I was privileged enough to have been a small part of it.

I wish there was some kind of moral one could take from this, but I don't really think there is, unless you decide to take a box of cakes with you everywhere you go and talk to everyone you meet in the hope of producing a similar coincidence. Although I've been thinking somewhat about being used by God, and being ready and at his disposal, even though in this case I really wasn't thinking about that at all and was being rather more selfish. Perhaps Isaiah 10 has more to say about it than I do.

I learnt something interesting today. Well, I thought it was interesting until I thought about it enough. I was in a tutorial and I asked whether Pierre Boulez (an avant-garde composer, don't bother looking up his music. Seriously, don't do it) was dead yet. Turns out no, but my tutor has already written his obituary. Turns out that the Financial Times (and other papers too, it's just that my tutor is in love with the FT) buy obituaries in advance, just so they can publish them on the day. Makes sense I suppose, but it's strange to think of all those records of people's lives sitting in a drawer, waiting for use. If you are famous enough, there's probably ones waiting for you.

And somewhere, the person who wrote it is waiting for you to die so that they can get their name in print. It's well-paid work apparently, £1 a word for 600 words. What a curious position to be in.

God took up Daniel once again!
Stood by his side and, miracle of miracles,
Walked him through the lions den!

Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles,
I was afraid that God would frown.
But like he did so long ago, at Jericho,
God just made a wall fall down!

When Moses softened Pharaohs heart, that was a miracle.
When God made the waters of the red sea part, that was a miracle too!
But of all God's miracles large and small,
The most miraculous one of all
Is that out of a worthless lump of clay,
God has made a man today.

Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles,
God took the tailor by the hand,
Turned him around and, miracle of miracles,
Led him to the promised land!

When David slew Goliath (yes!), that was a miracle.
When God gave us manna in the wilderness, that was a miracle too!
But of all God's miracles large and small,
The most miraculous one of all
Is the one I thought could never be:
God has given you to me!

My friend assures me its all or nothing,
I am not worried – I am not overly concerned.
My friend implores me, for one time only,
make an exception. I am not worried.
Wrap her up in a package of lies,
send her off to a coconut island.
I am not worried – I am not overly concerned
with the status of my emotions.
Oh, she says, we’re changing.
But we’re always changing.
It does not bother me to say this isn’t love,
because if you don’t want to talk about it then it isn’t love
and I guess I’m going to have to live that.
But, I’m sure there’s something in a shade of grey
or something in between
and I can always change my name if that’s what you mean.
My friend assures me its all or nothing,
but I am not really worried,
I am not overly concerned.
You try to tell yourself the things you try tell yourself to make
yourself forget.
To make your self forget.
I am not worried.
If it’s love, she said, then we’re gonna have to think about the consequences.
She cant stop shaking and I can’t stop touching her and this time
when kindness falls like rain,
it washes her away and Anna begins to change her mind.
These seconds when I’m shaking leave me shuddering
for days, she says.
And I’m not ready for this sort of thing.
But I’m not gonna break,
and I’m not going to worry about it anymore.
I’m not gonna bend, and I’m not gonna break, and
I’m not gonna worry about it anymore.
It seems like I should say, as long as this is love...
but its not all that easy so maybe I should just
snap her up in a butterfly net,
pin her down on a photograph album.
I am not worried.
I’ve done this sort of thing before.
But then I start to think about the consequences,
because I don’t get no sleep in a quiet room and the time
when kindness falls like rain,
it washes me away, and Anna begins change my mind.
And every time she sneezes I believe its love
And oh Lord, I’m not ready for this sort of thing.
She’s talking in her sleep, it’s keeping me awake,
and Anna begins to toss and turn.
And every word is nonsense but I understand it all
and oh Lord, I’m not ready for this sort of thing.
Her kindness bangs a gong,
it’s moving me along, and Anna begins to fade away.
It’s chasing me away, she disappears, and oh Lord I’m not ready for this sort of thing

-- It's rather peculiar how precisely this song applies to me right now, this minute. Perhaps I shall update soon with how it all turns out.

Hey Racer,
I bet you think you're mighty clever
riding into town on that great motorcycle.
Gleaming, shining new, it's got all the parts
- you didn't build any of it yourself
but it's yours alright.
Fire her up, hear her roar.
Scaaareeey, huh?
Enough to make children cry
(or less-developed adults).
Yes, you're the new renaissance man,
the best that your society has to offer.
Stand back folks! Here comes the revolution!
Illuminati, Anonymous.
Strap on your helmet, kick up some tire-smoke,
pwning phailers is beneath you:
you were meant for higher things.

Apologies for my absence - it appears that most of my LJ posts are encouraged by bouts of essay procrastination, an affliction which I have not been suffering from of late. For it is the Easter holidays and I am free to spend my time as I like. Naturally, this does not mean I go about reading books I have meant to tackle for months, or writing beautiful and complex music, or even doing my vacation work. I don't know where most of these past few days have gone, but much of it has been expended on Neverwinter Nights and articles dugg up from Digg.com. In short, fruitless and brainless, yet that is exactly what I have come to expect and anticipate in a holiday these days. Perhaps it is a sign of my growing up.

For I am now 20 years old, and that strikes me as a rather good age. I think that people treat a 20-year-old differently to a 19-year-old. The stigma of the 'teenage' prefacing digit has been struck down and replaced with a much grander (and more elegant) '2'. And yet I haven't reached the scary age of 21 yet. Many people asked me if I was worried to be turning 20, but I've found it to be more of an adventure into a new decade. In the past few months I think I've grown up a lot. Partly this has been due to my appointment to a grown-up position (Treasurer of the Oxford Christian Union - quite why they think lil' old dyscalculic me is up to the task is a sacred mystery) and partly due to my friends growing up around me. We talk about jobs now, and where we're going to live after graduation. Those of us in relationships discuss partners and spend time going out for dinners with them, leaving the (now minority) singletons to amuse ourselves, which is an increasingly lonely thing to be doing. It's not a bad thing, and I like being more mature - or perhaps I like myself better when I am mature.

Also, I have been busy with work. I appear to be turning into a session musician (which was my life ambition when I was 16, so no complaining there): I have just left Oxford, only to return there on a fully-paid ticket to play some cello on more of Daniel Hammersley's stuff, then the other day I got a call from an old friend who I haven't heard anything from in yonks, asking me to go to London to record there. Quite how they hit on me to play for them is as yet unanswered, seeing as they're hiring pros to do the rest of the backing tracks. Oh well, being paid to go to London will be good boasting material (although possibly not as good as the time the BBC paid me to stay in a 4-star hotel in Kensington so that I could explore Maida Vale Studios, then play in the Albert Hall on live TV (OK, so it was only BBC 4, so probably about 12 people watched it)).

Music does tend to take me interesting places. For example, yesterday, a friend of mine asked me to play a selection of instruments at her mother's primary school to teach the 3-year-olds about music and how cool it is. So I have a gig in a primary school. But yesterday again I played piano for a funeral. I didn't know the woman who'd died, but it turns out that I do know her grandchildren. One of them was the first girl to ever send me a Valentine's card. In reality, I've only seen her about five times since then, when we were eight, but I'm glad that I could play. Some of the family weren't there, I noticed. Apparently some of them have taken their grandmother's death really badly. I only noticed part way through the service that the widower husband was sitting in the front row. He was staring, as though exhausted, into the side of the coffin. I suppose he had nothing left in him. When you've been married for over 50 years, attending your wife's funeral is one of the hardest things I can imagine. He left the order of service on his seat when he processed out behind the coffin. I played a tune called 'Pajaro Triste' by Federico Mompou (it means 'sad bird' in Spanish) and although it was quiet and delicate, it seemed right. My friends at uni tell me that Music is a useless degree and that Medicine or Physics is the way forwards, but I think that in terms of helping people, music is right up there. Even my sceptical Physics friend listens to Shostakovich while he works, and another physicist I know can't do electromagnetics without the help of Pearl Jam (or sometimes Bach inventions). But even the cosmological constant isn't any comfort to a grieving family, whereas I hope I was. So perhaps in the long term, musicians will be the ones who do the greater good in society.

In the meantime I should be practising my oboe, or even doing that orchestration work that I was set so many weeks ago. Or perhaps I'll just carry on reading 'Bleak House' like I was before. Law - now that's a useless degree.

Dudes, I have a plan. It came to me during the service at Keble Chapel today and it was certified by my co-tenor as being A Good Idea. Never before has there been a more perfect merging of sacred and secular, a more happy marriage of Christianity and sci-fi.

Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting.... the Star Wars Mass!!

Just sing the Latin to the tunes below and voila (or do I mean viola?):


Main Titles/Star Wars Theme: Kyrie Eleison (Ky-rie, ele-e-e-ei-son etc.)

Imperial March: Gloria (Gloria, in excelsis Deo. Et in terra pax hominibus/Bonae voluntatis, bonae voluntatis, bonae, gloria, gloria)

Luke's Theme: Credo (Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem/factorem coeli et terrae, visibilium omnium)

Ewoks Theme: Sanctus (Sanctus, Dominus, Deus Sa-a-a-baoth/Pleni sunt caeli et terra gloria)

Han Solo and the Princess: Agnus Dei (Agnus, Agnus Dei/Qui tollis peccata mundi/Agnus dei qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis)



And there you have it. I can see no downside to this idea at all, it is purely good. I WILL actually write this thing one day, because it's just too good to pass up. And one day it will get performed and it will be awesome.

http://www.qwantz.com/archive/000551.html

I really like Dinosaur Comics. They teach me a lot of things and entertain me at the same time, kind of like a grown-up Sesame Street.

I was reading something this week that used the fact that grown-ups don't watch Sesame Street as evidence that our personal tastes change and evolve with age. However, I theorise that actually, every grown-up harbours a secret desire to watch Sesame Street again and that this frustrated desire results in much of the anger and resentment that is observable in adults. For example: think of the man who swears at people who selfishly pull out in front of him during morning rush hour, then moans about other people's driving for the rest of the day. If he had spent the morning watching Sesame Street during breakfast, he wouldn't be tense or irritable. He would be comforted by nice memories of furry happy monsters (OK, so I know that was the Muppets) and humming, 'It's Hip to be a Square' or something.

I've had an OK day. Yesterday was amazing though, with lots of things happening that I wouldn't have expected. I'm thinking of an entry to write about it. In the meantime, Sesame Street videos and etymological comics!

Whilst looking for a file in the My Documents folder on my computer today I came across a mysterious file called "brokenchords.txt." and when I opened it, I found this:


I must have written that sometime, because a quick search tells me that I didn't pull it off the internet, but I have absolutely no recollection of doing so. I've owned this computer for about a year and a half, so it could have been anytime between now and then. However, what I like about it is that it gives me the chance to be very objectively critical of myself because I have no idea what was going through my mind when I wrote it. I don't normally write poetry on the PC because pen and paper is so much more old-school and proper, in my mind. More inspiring too.

I got into my room with the intention of writing this essay at roughly 9:30pm. It's now quarter to six in the morning and I've written 210 words (and yes, that includes the essay plan).

Something tells me I haven't been very clever about this (I think it might be the dancing dots in my peripheral vision)...

OK, so it's now 6am, not 5pm of last night and the 6000 words are a long way off. I've just cracked 3000, so that might have to do, it being the lower limit and all. But I hate aiming for the lower limit. It's my own fault, I just slacked off the working pace for a bit.

This is a depressing feeling, knowing that all around me people will soon be waking up and I haven't even gone to bed yet. I was hoping to avoid it this term after a few 23-hour days last year. Still, LJing about it won't solve any problems. Back to the problems of 15th-century musical patronage I go!

(I chose that userpic because it looks kind of like it says "Expecto Patronage" on it. I'm currently wishing I could wave my wand and have a fully-formed essay shoot out the end of it. Who cares whether it's ghostly and not technically real? So long as it beats back the Dementors of Essay Crisis!)

I spent my weekend doing the most crazy things. Speaking Japanese, kung-fu fighting, role-playing a Russian general in charge of a train carrying murderous spies, talking to homeless people, playing gigs, toasting borrowed crumpets for everyone and singing in opera rehearsals. Every single one of those has their own unique story, but I don't have time to go into them now.

Today I went to two meetings and did some food shopping before the library opened at 9:30am, though I then ate breakfast in the Music Faculty Common Room until 10am, reading the BBC News website and thinking about the structure of the sub-prime mortgage lending system. Then I read all day in both the Faculty library and the Bodleian library. Now I've just finished eating and sending emails and doing my internet business of the day and I will settle down and begin my essay. My tutor wants 6000 words by 5pm tomorrow - it's possible!

This evening nearly the entire crew engaged in a waterfight on the staircase. Morale is high.

I don't really know how it happened, but we threw water over each other for like half an hour. It nearly stopped, but people kept building up reserves and waiting for an excuse to throw them all over again. It reflected international politics in an uncanny manner. Then we realised that there were puddles all over the place and that we'd just had a waterfight *indoors* and spent the next half hour cleaning up after ourselves.

Before tonight, the daftest thing I'd done while at university was to plant growth-hormone-dusted leeks in a secluded spot in college on St David's Day night, in a Stonehenge kind of pattern. One of our number that evening split hormones all over himself, but nothing funny happened to him after that, even though we were waiting for days.

Life is so mad at the moment. I've got this gig on Sunday, which should be mental (but it's been sounding good in practices) and I've just been sent an email saying that Elton John might be attending an opera performance which I'm playing in. And Tim Rice was sworn in as an honorary fellow of my college the other day (and I narrowly missed out on having drinks with him :(. Some of the other Music students got to go and meet him) so that means that within the space of a term I might come into close proximity with both halves of the genius behind 'The Lion King'.

Why does all this stuff happen to me? I get it so good. Last night I was talking to a friend of mine on MSN and he doesn't even think he can come home from uni this Christmas because his stepmother has converted his bedroom into a playroom and told his brothers and sisters not to buy him a present. And my dear friend iltaru is in bed feeling very ill. I mean, my stomach kind of hurts but that's because I over-ate at a wonder meal in Hall this evening, then had freezing cold water tipped over me by a beautiful girl. I have everything thing I need (almost), and yet God continues to bless me. Because my life is so good, I often fear that I'm about to become a Job figure when God takes it all away and tests me. I don't deserve it at all, and I get so guilty talking to people because I see all their needs and want to do something about it, but it's not in my hands. If I could swap my place at this university so that Ed could go and have Christmas with his family, then I would. But things like this aren't up to me. Which is a good thing, definitely.

23:24 01/11/2007

I'm back, and I feel kind of better. That tute was just a blagfest - the tutor and I got into a raging debate as to whether music was more like a space-station or a sandwich. He pulled a clever trick on me and said that I wasn't taking all the sociological implications into context, which is what modern musicology is all about these days. I wanted to say that I thought that musicology wasn't about music anymore but that would have made me sound really old-fashioned.

Better things have happened to me since the last post. I've talked to one of my friends over MSN about it and she assured me a bit. I kind of wanted to talk to someone because I'd just managed to boil a ladybird to death in my kettle and I felt horrible. Now I'm talking to her again but it's because her boyfriend has been spending a lot of time away from her and with his ex recently. There's nothing I can do, but I try to do something in times like this. I don't like to feel powerless.

I spent the afternoon doing things that I CAN do, like playing the piano and working out some chords for a gospel-choir piece I'm working on. Today I was wondering how best to harmonise a Bb. Here are the options, if you have a piano or a keyboard near you, you can try them out.

Galt (G-F-B-Eb-F-Bb)

Ab13 (Ab-Gb-C-Eb-F-Bb)

D9+#5 (D-C-E-F#-Bb)

There's subtle differences between each one. Perhaps I'll use a different one each chorus ^_^  Also, I helped a Spanish friend of mine with her English homework via the wonders of MSN which made me feel useful again. And I used Wikipedia to learn something new. Look:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hapax_legomenon

And I've just been out to a Bible Study and got myself an accountability partner, which means that now I have someone to relate all my temptations to, I'll start sinning less! Yes, that would be nice. And I've just listened to a song by my friend's band which reminds me of the first dance that I and a certain girl shared. In fact, it was multiple dances at a ceilidh that his band were hosting (in my college, how convinient is that?) and it was one of my best nights ever. The song is also brilliant and I respect it very much. Fortunately for you, it's available for free download: http://www.thepagans.net/Lyrics/DrunkenLoveSong.htm and right-click the 'Drunken Love Song' link on the right and save it and enjoy it. Man, I hope he appreciates the publicity this gives him.

Hmmm. This post seems to require a lot of reader-participation. I hope that you have fun with it. I don't know quite why I feel OK now and I didn't before, but that's the way of things. I'll enjoy it while it lasts and sing along to the last 45 seconds of 'Drunken Love Song' with Duncan.

AH-OOOOOOOOOOO-OOOO, ah-ah-OOOOOOOOOO-OOOOO.....

00:09 02/11/2007

11:54 01/11/2007

That's an emo way to start a post. It kind of sums up my feelings of late though. These past couple of days I haven't been very happy, but not deeply unhappy - more a kind of neutral dissatisfaction. I've done no work and got no pleasure out of it, I've played in our Christian Union band (which is normally one of my favourite things) and not enjoyed it, I've walked and talked and prayed with people I love and yet felt no love. I think I am both loveless and unlovely (though not unloved, because there are a lot of selfless people who I know).

It has come to one of those times where I wish to reinvent myself. These happen every couple of months where I do things that I disapprove of so much that I wish to disassociate myself with my own being and start over. Recently I've been so selfish and self-serving, doing everything to please myself and to make myself happy or give myself good feelings, or at least looking for those feelings in everything. I've just reread my posts here and I sound like a self-righteous twat, boasting about this and that, but mainly myself. I know that the way I write doesn't help, but listing my achievements online is not a cool thing to do and I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry. I hope the next reincarnation of myself doesn't turn out this way.

When I bragged about cooking stir-fry for all my friends, I didn't tell you the reason why I did it. Sometimes I get depressed and then get angry at myself for being depressed when I have things so good. I am a massively privileged person in so many respects that I have absolutely no right to be feeling down. Maybe if I didn't have a house, or couldn't buy food, or were ignored by the majority of people who saw me (like the Big Issue sellers that I see every day), then I could feel unhappy. But to be upset with everything I have is just to insult people like them. Gah, even in my self-hatred I see self-pity and I can't get rid of these words which have 'self' in them. The best cure I've found for my depressed mood is to get on my knees and serve others. It's the best way of getting the focus off myself and dying to my own comfort. Cooking food for people is nice, because it's creative and you get to see their satisfaction, which is the reward. But if I'm doing it because I know that I'll feel happy and get less depressed after seeing them enjoy it, isn't that just selfishness too?

And isn't writing a post this long all about my own feelings and expecting people to read it and have something helpful to say to me selfish as well? I should go and get some work done. It's a beautiful day, the sun is shining on the yellow leaves all around college and soon I'll get to kick my way through autumn's golden gown on the way to my tutorial. But the world is prettier than I am.

12:29 01/11/2007

00:34 29/10/2007

Allow me to start at the beginning. A deeply loved friend of mine celebrated her 21st birthday recently and I thought that I should make her a really good present in order to commemorate it. She loves music too and plays the piano pretty well so I thought, why not write her a piece for her birthday? Surely that would be unique and a pretty nice present. I had this idea before term finished for the summer and I spent a lot of my months off working on it. Because it's me and I don't like to do things like this by halves, I made sure it was good and like anything good, it had a tonne of hidden meanings to it. To explain them all to you would require a pretty detailed knowledge of our relationship so far which I do not have the time and/or energy to go into here, but suffice to say that since we're both Christians there was plenty of Christian symbolism in there (crosses and 3s), there were references to periods in her life and songs that she likes, but my favourite part was the bit that requires some deep music theory.

It's complicated, but for weird reasons regarding the 15th-century notation of musical modes using Gothic typefaces (and that is TRUE), the Germans call B natural 'H'. And that extra letter in the musical alphabet allowed me to write her name in music and use it as the main theme of the piece. See? How cool is that? Well, I think that's romantic and not geeky.

Yesterday I played this piece to her for the first time and it was awesome. Although I was so nervous when I was playing it that my leg was bouncing all over the pedals. She liked it though, and she spent some time this evening practising it in our college Music House, which means a lot to me. I hope that one day I will marry her, but I feel that most of the love comes from my side and it isn't being returned. Last night I had heart-to-heart with God where I actually talked with him properly instead of making it a one-sided thing and I told him this, saying, "I know it's all about your plan and everything, and at the end of the day I will do whatever you want of me, but I'd really like to settle down with her, if that's OK." I cried a bit too, which is always good when you're praying because it means you're getting beyond the "Now I lay me down to sleep" stage.

THEN, this morning when my radio alarm went off, this song was the first thing I heard this morning. It's by Don Mclean (you know, the genius behind 'American Pie') and it's called 'Everyday':

Everyday, it's a gettin' closer,
Goin' faster than a roller coaster,
Love like yours will surely come my way, (hey, hey, hey)
Everyday, it's a gettin' faster,
Everyone says go ahead and ask her,
Love like yours will surely come my way, (hey, hey, hey)
Everyday seems a little longer,
Every way, love's a little stronger,
Come what may, do you ever long for
True love from me?
Everyday, it's a gettin' closer,
Goin' faster than a roller coaster,
Love like yours will surely come my way.

Firstly, this song is nowhere near famous. Secondly, it was playing on a Sunday morning worship programme (where it really didn't belong). So why would the presenter play it at all? The explanation I am slightly unsure of, but want ever so badly to be true is...

GOD JUST SPOKE TO ME THROUGH THE MEDIUM OF DON MCLEAN!!

I lay in bed thinking, hey, this song kind of applies to me. Then I thought, wait, what if it's meant for me? Then I thought, dude, God has good taste in music!

Perhaps something will come of this. I'm going to bed.

01:16 29/10/2007

I've just found what could be the coolest legend ever.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Melion

I'm going to have to look deeper into this. It deserves a retelling, or some sort of fanfic. It's got all the ingredients for a great tale, so why haven't I heard of it before?

Who cares, that's what makes it so cool.