Gloomy Sundays & Melancholy Mondays

First, welcome to RockPaperScissors, the satirical day to day views of a guitar touting pilot. In line with true satirical fashion, and also due to some recent events regarding yours truly, let me begin with the irony and beguile; calender word meaning to charm or enchant in deceptive ways, of cigarettes. Now don't get me wrong, smoking IS bad for one's health, and I admittedly am a hypocrite when it comes to this subject. 

You see that pack of virginia killing sticks at the edge of the table? All you need to know about life is retained within those four walls. You will notice that one of your personalities is seduced by the illusions of grander, the shimmering blue packet, of king sized, with a regal insignia. An attractive implication towards glamour and wealth. A subtle suggestion that cigarettes are indeed your royal and loyal friends. Now that is a lie. Your other personality is trying to draw your attention to the flip-side of the discussion, written in boring, bold, black and white, is a statement that these neat little soldiers of death are in fact trained to kill you. And that my friends is the truth. Oh, beauty is a beguiling call to death and I'm addicted to the sweet pitch of its siren. That which starts sweet ends bitter, and that which starts bitter ends sweet. That my friends is why, in life it is so hard to give something up, even though its not what you originally bargained for.

I apologize for this not being the most uplifting of posts, but a feeling of evanescence; another calendar word meaning 'the event of fading and gradually vanishing from sight', lately has prompted me to start off in such unfashionable fashion. Things will lighten up, you have my word on that.

thought of the day: 'everything but peace of mind'

rockpaperscissors

[edit] Have a listen to Gloomy Sunday. More popularly known as 'The Hungarian Suicide Song' due to its unsubstantiated urban legends about inspiring countless suicides. A little history about the song, it was written in 1933 by hungarian pianist and composer Rezso Seress. Its about mourning the untimely death of a lover and contemplating suicide. I personally recommend giving Sarah Mclachlan's version a listen. Relax, it will not kill you. 

over and out.

rockpaperscissors