Mitsuru

I was on my way back to my hotel room; the place was eerily quiet -- the only audible sounds came from my footfalls -- when suddenly, I felt a rush of cold air brush against my skin; the hair on my neck promptly stood on end. I turned around and flicked a quick shot from my iPhone hoping to catch some creatures lurking within in the process.  And to my chagrin, there was nothing there but just an empty,- deserted hallway.  #historicwestinbookcadilla c

crazy adventures, powerful trips: booze, drugs, women and motorcycles. born to be wild.

after 2 episodes, i am going AWOL from watching this show. Fox should dismiss the scribes and discharge the cast. humor in uniform is dead.

Yoshihiro Tatsumi 's 1956 thriller Black Blizzard provides us a look into his past, when he was still a raw and inexperienced writer and mangaka . Tatsumi, in several interviews, never hides the fact that he has 'conflicting' feelings about Black Blizzard to which he described it as "nostalgic for the past, for the days of my youth" but it's also "like exposing something shameful and private" that he would rather bury and have "hidden from sight." But the work in itself is not bad for a twenty- one year old aspiring and struggling writer- cum- cartoonist. On the contrary it probably revolutionized the alternative comic scene in Japan in those days that eventually made him a gekiga pioneer. Tatsumi's unorthodox visual narrative is like a study in contradiction; it was simple but is actually ahead of his time. The focus and angles are like those that can be seen from the eyes of a master filmmaker; the drawings speak f...

I bought this book for a sonnet--err song ($3) during one of my forays at a local flea market. Not bad for an 1878 illustrated edition of The Complete Works of the Bard, eh?  William Shakespeare would have been 449 today.

Last Song Syndrome: Corey Hart's Sunglasses at Night, a song I never heard for more than 2 decades. Damn Detroit FM radio; now I got these lines stuck in my head- "Don't switch the blade on the guy in shades, oh no! Don't masquerade with the guy in shades, oh no! Although I hate the said song, I used to like his other power ballad and hit, Never Surrender, which won him the 1985 Juno Award for "Single of the Year" in Canada. Cheesy and all, I still love the 80s!

my old acoustic guitar,  the sole witness  during those rare  times where i can  wear  my heart on  my sleeve.

I found a long-sought soft self-comforting freedom a heart-rousing understanding governed not by the common reason but by untamed emotions.

Behind the steady finger that pulls the trigger and the sharp eye that peeks through the crosshairs are men like Gunnery Sergeant Kyle Swanson and the enigmatic Juba, two snipers on different sides of the spectrum but with one common mission- to exterminate anybody on their path with 'one shot, one kill." Add Baghdad, Black Ops, Al Qaeda, Chemical weapons and the Iranian connection make Dead Shot a good read; a novel that is just all right but still manages to intrigue.

...early Sunday morning, driving on a deserted Southfield Freeway. the sun's rays are trying to break through the grey clouds' spell. Michigan in winter; beautiful and lonely.

Another day, another wasted day. Another rotten day has passed,  spent in this dark old  room, an abyss where not a sliver of light, have penetrated its four corners for ages -- the dominion of the damned, where sanity is slowly eroding inside the battered head. In the Brain; where the never-ending labyrinth of gelatinous gyri and sulci, continues to boggle and rattle, the spirit of the demented mind. Pitter patter-raindrops spatter-eat the matter-in the platter- helpless tapper-leader-follower-naked in the shower- nobody answers... this never-ending childish prattle- taxes the mind,  burns the soul, castrates the emotions and rips off the heart Of everything. In isolation, inside this padded room, the only place for lunatics- lost in space, locked in total darkness- a prisoner condemned into oblivion. This smokey room; where the stale air flew in circles, where the mind somersaults like the high-flyer in a circus. This smelly room; where the s...

"In all our quest of greatness, like wanton boys, whose pastime is their care, we follow after bubbles, blown in the air." - John Webster  *Troy Marriott/Troy Michigan

The Mackinac Bridge: the longest suspension bridge in the Western Hemisphere, connecting the two peninsulas of Michigan.

*old books found while tidying up my man cave.

To the uninitiated this is a peek into the evil that these people do. But to the initiated, this is nothing new since most of the stories and trivia in this book are old and a re-hash from other books that deal with the subject.

   Madness: just woke up from more than 10 hours of gallivanting in dreamland after watching the entire Season 3 of Mad Men the night before.

bite the bullet, taste the blood feel your heart, beating deep inside count the pulse, shake off your fears ignore the call, calm the nerves check the sight, aim the gun steady the finger, squeeze the trigger sweep the floor, waste them all tune out the cries, ignore the moans you are the greatest of them all # *Circa 1996 photo credit: Takati2012

"The joke about Nazi racial theory- The ideal superman of the master race would be as blond as Hitler, as lean as Göring, and as tall as Goebbels." The novel is set in the Greek city of Salonika amid the fear and confusion of a German invasion hanging like the proverbial sword of Damocles on everyone's head during the early years of WWII. Constantine Zannis, a local policeman, gets embroiled in matters of politics, espionage and his heart as he treads on dangerous grounds on a journey that only a few men would have the undying resolve to pursue.

She sat there in the cubicle,  with eyes closed  trying to  drown out the cries  of tortured souls that still rang in her ears  and  the pungent odor of billows of smoke  that screened the crimson haze  of gray vision that  numbed her senses as she tried to forget the painful reminder  of Dachau,  now reduced to a neurotic museum of tears.  In her mind, where footsteps are stationary  and the labored sound of hoarse breathing echoed  in the silent passageways,  the faded pictures  breezed through her memory.  Their voices were now  silent and the curtains drawn to hide  the reflections  in the mirror  of her eyes that belied  the mourning of her heart.  # photo credit: dachauscrapbook

If we have people like Jack Morgan and his investigation company in our midst, then most criminals will find it hard to sleep at night with the fear of being exposed in the backs of their heads, since PRIVATE does not always play by the rules. Yes, PRIVATE can solve any case that they put their resources into and can also dish their own brand of swift justice if push comes to shove. PRIVATE exist primarily because of the expertise of the people behind it and commands a huge fee for their services. But they also do pro bono cases on the side. NFL gambling syndicate and cases of unsolved killings of schoolgirls make this thriller a good read, indeed