anna akhmatova's "the last toast"

reinventing the wheel is not my cup of tea but celebrating it is. anna akhmatova's poem, "the last toast" is one of my favourite poems- perfect for these hard times...

I drink to our demolished house,
To the wickedness in my life,
To our loneliness together,
I raise my glass to you--
To those lying lips which have betrayed me,
And to the dead-cold eyes
The coarse, brutal world and the fact
That God has not saved us.

Anarchy...

... is the preserve of the Insane.

dreams...

...are like ingmar bergman flicks, visually powerful but abrupt as hell.

if i were a character in an indie flick...

... i'd be the nosejob.

and my speciality would be slitting people's throats *halal style* and pulling their brains out through their nostrils once they have been thoroughly bled.