Consistent hits are hard to do

When the 2007 Camry first came out, I took one look at its sleek, perfectly proportioned lines and said, "whoa".

a la Neo.

and I continued the conversation with myself stating categorically that Toyota had found their way home (look at the previous Ultraman-inspired Camry).

and then out came the swollen Vios.

and then out came the blistery Altis.

and I realised, sadly, the new Camry's a fluke.

She's beautiful, she sings, and she can laugh at herself

Natalie Imbruglia and Whatshisname do "Torn".

depression is a small fiend

depression

is a small fiend

quiet

till its garrote is round your neck
silent suffocating necklace of death


a sweet face from decades ago
emerges from the murk of time
lifts me
with a glimpse of paradise

in a time past and not yet come

The Talking Cure 2.0

The talking cure?
that's what people call it, when a person hires a shrink or a psych and sits on the couch—real or proverbial—and talks and talks and talks and talks until his problems disappear.

couldn't people do this—for free—with their friends?
in a perfect world, I guess.
fact is, not too many friends are adept at listening, speaking only when it would facilitate more listening—i.e. more talking on the listenee's part.

it's because few friends are good at this, that shrinks and psychs can hire themselves out by the hour or part thereof, simply to listen as mommy did or should have done.

am I oversimplifying? you bet.
but it's for a point to be made.


anyway, for those without listening friends or money for shrinks, there's always blogging.

heh.

It's a blinkin' ad

Farnee!