"Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream," The Only Exception by Paramore.
Maybe an introduction is necessary. My name is Marx, as in the father of communism's surname. Why I was named as such, I leave for you to find out from my parents (I've never had he guts to ask myself). You might wonder why I'm invading this blog space. Well, you see, I'm in love.
That's right, I'm in love. But what is love? Everyone knows what love is, recognizes it when he or she feels it, sees it. But still, no one really knows what love is about. It's undefinable. It's inconceivable. It's absurd, unknown, contradictory, and universal. We can search Wikipedia and read that love is "unusually difficult to define". That's why it's a recurrent theme in a lot of subjects in our lives. One example would be to attract customers to purchase whatever the company has to offer, such as the catch phrase used by the mega-food-franchise, McDonalds' "I'm Lovin' It!".
Speaking of McD's, I saw a video once of an experiment that this dude conducted in his office. He got a bunch of McD's products and placed each of the 5 burgers as well as a set of fries in individual sealed jars. He left them for weeks, and naturally, they reeked of fungus and bacteria after some time, except for the fries. The fries were left for 3 months (if my memory serves me correctly) without as much as a single spec of green or black. They stayed the way they were until the boss of the dude ordered the dude to toss 'em out, since it was creeping them out. Wouldn't you be creeped out too? Other foods take only 3 or 4 days to decompose. Them fries took 3 or 4 months (or maybe even more). Scary, huh?
You know what else is scary? People who cut off cats' heads, eat their hearts and keep the heads in refrigerators. And doing all that while being perfectly naked. Now THAT's scary. You can read of this character in the novel entitled "Kafka On The Shore" by Haruki Murakami. I won't spoil too much of it for you. After all, we are comrades, right? I'm sure that if I was interested in a book, you wouldn't spill the story to me either, right?
Did I say spill? That reminds me, the other day while I was eating TomYam at a stall near Wazir-Akbar Khan, a goat came by and bleated right in my ear, startling me and causing me to spill my Evian water all over the dirt floor. The stall-owner leered at me from afar and pointed to a mop behind the counter. I took the mop and started belting out "How Deep Is Your Love" by the BeeGees, using the mop as a makeshift microphone stand. When I finished, the stall-owner and the goat gave me a standing ovation, encouraging me to pursue my singing career in Papua New Guinea.
My first album is due to be released in late 1942, and I will be holding a launching party at the Pachinko joint at Hikariga-Oka, and all of you are invited. Do bring guests, ok? It's gonna be a blast!