Roadkill, baby. <body>


I.

Cheryl.

Sweetpea.

Shoot, sexaye!



Vain vintage.

July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008

Jaded junkies.

ariel alan bruddy gid khim sarh serene shaun shifu sf tai tini timo




Monday, April 17


The nails in your hands.
I realised, after my daily dose of aimless blog-hopping, that no one really wrote anything about Easter. No thoughts, no comments, no feelings, no new insights. Have we really grown so immune to the Easter message that we fail to see its importance or its significance anymore? Or have we been thankful for so long that we've forgotten exactly what we're thankful for?

The speaker yesterday said that the Easter message was one that was hard - almost impossible to believe. But conversely, what if we've been believing without really thinking about the enormity and the near impossibilty of the events that took place? I think it is more dangerous to believe blindly than to have hesitant doubts.

So if this Easter, you think about Jesus' hands being pierced by nails - and you feel indifference; if you remember that He rose again - and you pass it off with a sanctimonious nod; if all you took away was the little toy from inside the Easter egg - well, maybe you should think again.

I know I should.


1:42 PM