Tuesday, April 28, 2009


Seal it away.
Forever and ever and ever.
And then, let's leave this place..
Slip away quietly while we're still sleeping. Before they wake up.
This dream's gone on long enough. And all the characters are already fading.
Let's join the others at the gates of dawn.
Listen, and you can still hear the music.
Seal it away! It'll fade away with this dead town, and you can't go back to what isn't even there. Make it go away.
Make them stop so I can tell where the music is coming from.
If we hurry, we'll make it there before they wake up, or before we realize that no one ever will again.
Not your fault. NOT my fault. Not our fault...

Sunday, April 26, 2009

I have a secret

Chips of rocks
floating down the hills
No further, no higher
Icarus burns in the sun
Wait, wait, wait for it to be night
Careful, it isn't one
Repeat, recycle, relive, repeat
Make it rain
with promises you shall pay for
over and over and over again
Forget forgiving freedom,
but never forgive forgetting freedom
Too many meanings
All is nothing and nothing is all
Rain down the river
even blood can melt the snow
Forget, repeat, forgive, recycle,
and no one is free
but I have a secret.

Sailor Rabbit

Just a little further
hopped the rabbit to the gnome
who chuckled and laughed at the little one
who thought he was going home
And the ships are set to sail
Won't you tell mother I've gone to sea?
The sky is a washed up blue
Don't miss me, don't miss me
He really wanted to stay
But I'm stuck in yesterday
And now it's all gone away
for all the ships are set to sail
Can't you see it's all a lie?
Little rabbit, swim ashore
It's a long long way home
but you can't trust us anymore
We're going far my friend
oh, but I fear it's all too late
The sky's a washed up blue
and the ship sails away

Friday, April 24, 2009

Never Mind

They still tingle sometimes. It isn't often, but they do. I don't particularly mind the tingling, but sometimes, I notice, and then I remember. I don't always like remembering. And I never like constant reminders. It's okay though. Just another bunch of days to ignore until they go away. Like the people in the funnel pipe. We made it you know, just barely, but we did. And now no one else can. But everyone's floating away into the blue blue sky and we're just getting lost. Where does this go? I can wait, I suppose. It's not like there's anywhere particular I'm heading. We. I keep forgetting dear, please remind me every once in a while that you're still here? Oh, so polite indeed. Save the cats guys, I rather like the rain. But won't it ever stop? Too soon to worry about that. Too soon. The storm will come and we'll be stuck here, out in the cold, but it'll go away. I guess. I suppose. Too early to worry about that. Too soon. Is it time to check out? No dude, we just got here. So much further to go. And the sky turns purple.

"I like this view"

Goodbye. But it isn't. I guess. I suppose. I mean, it is only one sky, right? How big can it be? And we're still only so far away. We could reach out, couldn't we? I think so, but what's out there anyway? Umm... the others? What others? Suddenly, everyone's gone. Engulfed by an inky infinite sky. And I stayed too long. There are always the birds. At least, I think they're out there. I can hear them sometimes, but it's too dark to see. When will the moon come out? Or perhaps I am on the moon. Perhaps we all are. After all, the moon has a dark side, doesn't it? That's a lie. Matter of fact, it's all dark. And no one knew what was on the other side. Blind leaps of faith(?), except we never came down. Fairy dust can make you fly. Way to go Peter.

Except you forgot... We never got to Neverland, and now it's too dark to see. You never taught me how to stop. Us. You never did. We didn't ask, but you weren't supposed to forget either. And we're still floating on the clouds. Maybe it's still too soon to worry about getting down. Maybe you'll remember.

Maybe I'll forget. I think I am forgetting. Maybe I do know, but just can't remember. If I tried so hard to forget, there must have been a reason, right? And this is so much easier, like floating on a cloud. And the storm will come and it'll go away. Maybe we'll miss it completely because we're here. Maybe we can watch it from above and marvel at the lightning flashes. What would it be like to see lightning from above? I guess the moon would know. Too bad she never tells. She must have her reasons I guess. Don't we all? No. That would be a little too simple to watch for an eternity. Perhaps it's just an anomaly. Perhaps we all are just anomalies and the dinosaurs were all there was supposed to fucking be to it. At least they'd just try and snap your head off (literally) instead of tripping you to death. Like on a plank. No one goes insane. Everyone is driven insane. I'd like to meet the driver.

There's not enough time, but there's just so much of it. It's too little time to do anything and too much time to do nothing. Like the ten minute breaks, you know? Perhaps that's all life is, a ten minute break. Imagine that. And we just wasted so much of it complaining how short it was, when we could have just managed a tea and a smoke. Except it's so hot. Why won't it rain? I thought it never stopped. Interrupt - interrupt - interr- Never mind.

A duck joke

What do you call a duck with no feet?


Thursday, April 23, 2009

I Love Holidays

I like waking up at 8 am with more than 5 hours of sleep done with. I love not having a hangover and/or feeling like hell. I like waking up to music playing. I like the early morning cool breeze. And I love it when the scent of yesterday's rain drifts along with it. I like the fact that I can't hear any voices. I like reading parts of books I've read before. I love moving them around, remembering them and smiling to myself. I like making it to breakfast in time and with time. Sometimes I love cleaning. The before and after effect is a rush. I like going through old notebooks and reading all the random conversations, notes, comments, rants, confessions and songs. I love finding something I thought I had lost.

I love holidays.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009


Why do this?
Honestly, I don't know.
Too many answers
to questions now far below
I do not remember a time
when they must have mattered
But I know there was an old world
Before it completely shattered

((c) November/December 2007)

Monday, April 20, 2009

Temporary Revenge


Sometimes, I want to let her.
I want her to lose it, lash out, destroy. I want her to grab that wheel and drive us all into the water, through the silly little fence-like wall, laughing as he screams at me to stop. I want to watch him beg. I won't stop. We'll only laugh. We'll laugh while his screams get louder and his pleas more frantic. We'll laugh when we hit the water. And laugh harder as we sink all the way to the murky bottom, water filling up slowly in his precious new car, filling up his lungs. I'll laugh as we watch him die.

And sometimes, I almost do.

But then... she'd have won.
I don't move. I jus' sit and stare at nothing at all, in silence, because I know it kills her. I know it does... and that's enough for me. It's revenge enough... for now. It doesn't matter that in the process I'm hurting us as well. It's worth it... for now...

Sometimes, I still wish I had let her...


Saturday, April 18, 2009

The Insomniac - 1

I can see the sky growing lighter. The rays from the sun somehow find their way to my dungeon-like room. My neighbors from the building across have finally gone to bed. I can tell because the lights are out. Finally. This means I can smoke in peace, without the peeking and the muttering. Sometimes I think I should light my room in red and chant devilish verses in unholy voices into the night. Maybe that would stop their constant surveillance and gossip. Or it would get me thrown out of this apartment, which I really can not afford.

I sigh. The relief is undeniable. Another night is over. I'm still here. I'm a wreck and the place is a mess, but I'm still here. I stand up, slowly, so as to not upset the papers spread out before me. It took me a long time to finish this set of calculations, and I do not have the energy to do it all again.

I know the routine. In a few minutes I'll have to go looking for water. The water-purifier on this floor is probably busted again, which means another trek to the next building. The night-watchmen, which I don't know how my aunt affords, will give me their curious stares as I hurry past in the same black dress I wore to the party last night.

On my way back, I'll run into the other "inhabitants" of this building as they wake up to the "new day". Even though the place is falling apart, it still has some of the "original" and "respectable" residents haunting the floors. From the old days when my aunt first bought the property, waiting for the promised sky-high rocketing prices. Of course, that was before the string of murders and the Court case. Now it's worth nothing. That, undeniably, has worked out perfectly for me. Thanks to the "arrangement" between the remaining family I have and myself, they can feel sufficiently guilt-free for giving me a place to live in and I get to stay at a semi-decent place for next to free. Perfect. Except for the stares I get.

At first, the parents studied me with barely disguised curiosity, wondering what 'someone like me' was doing in a 'place like this' in the first place. By now they're used to me and my seemingly planned descent into blatant decadence, though I can tell they don't approve by the way they panic if one of their kids starts up a conversation as I duck past lit corridors on the rare occasions my music player doesn't have enough charge to politely discourage any interaction. And by the way they glare when I light up a cigarette. I can tell because I can see them shaking their heads in pity and compassion. I'm obviously "too young" to be staying by myself and stumbling home drunkenly at bizarre hours. Some nights I imagine going up to their doors and knocking softly with the gun clenched tightly in my hand. Once in a while I even imagine doing the maniacal laughter bit as they cautiously open their doors. But being the sane and reasonable person that I am, I do nothing of the sort.

Suddenly remembering the weapon, I spin around and reach under the pillow, sighing in relief as my fingers find the cold steel. I make my way to the window once again, studying the sky. Not much longer now.
(to be continued)

The Ants Are My Friends

This needs to be shared. It's from a book called "THE ANTS ARE MY FRIENDS" by Martin Toseland, and is full of 'misheard Lyrics, Malapropisms, Eggcorns, and other linguistic gaffes'. I've only read Chapter A as of now (and there's one for every alphabet), but it seems like a great compilation. Anyhow, here's an excerpt:

'"The ants are my friends"

Bob Dylan's 1963 protest song becomes a tribute to his insect friends according to some listeners. Instead of the 'answer' to the song's strident questions 'blowin' in the wind', there are hundreds of his ant friends being blown along, getting in everyon's way, only protected by Bob's friendship. What happens to them when he gets to the harmonica solo is not explained.'

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

A New Day

Dawn is breaking, and once again I'm awake to see the light.

Too bad that the line has no metaphoric connotations whatsoever. That would make life simpler, yes? Instead I'm left watching the same stars fade and fall away and the same old beautiful broken moon every time I take a chance and look up.

I've been searching the skies for too long now. Nothing ever changes. Well, nothing significant. I mean sure, sometimes the moon isn't even there. And sometimes a star I get particularly attached to decides to crash and burn, but in the end it's all almost the same. Almost.

They say hell is an endless cycle of similar events. I thought that was how life was defined. But then again, "endless" is pretty huge. Not something I can even dare comprehend without kissing sanity goodbye. Ah, but the only thing longer than forever is never, right? In which case it isn't exactly impossible to imagine eternity. We do so much worse every day.

It should bother me. The fact that I don't even want the sun anymore. But it's already been quietly accepted in a peaceful wisp of smoke. Besides, there are a lot of things that should bother me and don't. Why should this be any different? No reason at all.

Oh, I could fix my sleep cycle. I could sleep at night and socialize in the day. But these words keep floating by: "No one says anything important during the day." So true, and so deftly eliminating my one (make-believe) reason to fix things. Like a head shot.

Everything I need is right in front of me. And I'm not allowed to touch a thing. Because if I do, I can never have the things I want. And never is a very very long time. So, I lean back, close my eyes and let the smoke dance around. Fragile is relative. And Patience is a virtue. Glass is nothing but sand. Sometimes strength can end up becoming beautiful and fragile. But fragile is relative. And the moon always comes back. "Everything under the sun is in tune , but the sun is eclipsed by the moon." Eclipses are what everything is about. And everything is what eclipses are about. Maybe I should relocate, but where can I go to escape the moon? And why would I want to? Songs. Beauty. Silence. Words. Sadness. Memories. Perhaps I'm just an easy person to haunt. Perhaps it's what comes out of waiting on the dark side of the moon. A tear can sometimes help pass time. Me? I prefer cigarettes. I guess sooner or later, I'll have to take that last drag.
But not yet.
Not just yet.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Conversation 2

S: wassup?

A: good





What are you saying?

wat what?


i m nt saying anything

You said good!
What's good?

i dnt knw

You said it!


Conversation: gtalk

B: well. comin back. im tryin the arundathi roy and sashi tharoor bits now

ok. ko problem again. -_-

wht abt her again

What about who?

arundathi roy

rep at UN
she did

she did us?
wht the fuck does tht mean

She represented us at the UN

did she now
cant we keep her out of this
jus talk abt SASHI THAROOR
ok see whether u like this

Sashi Tharoor is a she?
No she's not

i know that

I mean
he's not

Wednesday, April 8, 2009


I stayed up all night. Again. And how long did it take me to finish what I was trying to do? 25 measly minutes.

Also, the attendance situation demands I attend all of today's classes. Which means that I can't start the other paper before 1500 hours. Which further implies that I shall not finish by 1700 hours. Hence, I shall submit it late and ruin a beautiful holiday.

Procrastination shall be the death of me.

Hotel California



Accusations you will not deny. Shielded by inconspicuous comforting lies. (Do not.) Alternating with truth you never arrived at. (Will not.) Though sometimes, you don't know anymore. (Can not.) Stick them on with wasted band aids. We'll watch skin peel away while we wait for the next round. Everything is an infinite circle.

Mirrors reflect more than the mere soul. But even they can't repaint every memory. It claws and hooks and tears, and still loses to insidious lies that you once swore by. Betrayal asks for nothing but trust. A worthy sacrifice the first million times, slowly morphing to crumbling star dust that means so much of nothing. The price of pain stuck in a decaying inflation. And I reach for the otiose tape.

I'm curious. What lies under your skin? I find myself afraid to ask as you cry your ultra violet tears. (Don't cry.) I want to ask, but I don't want to know. Instead I soothe your soul and calm your fears with flowers that can only wither away. A fitting goodbye to sins I'll never touch. Only because you would not let me. And I won't deny the accusations. I have my shields. And the falling, crumbling, mocking, sad old band aids.

Mirrors reflect so much more than the mere soul. I find solace in the blindness you impose. And all I long to see is long gone away. The river will find me. The river will take me home. Don't make me go. Don't let me go. Don't let me get carried away.


- Emilie Autumn

I'm your Opheliac
I've been so disillusioned
I know you'd take me back
But still I feign confusion
I couldn't be your friend
My world was too unstable
You might have seen the end
But you were never able
To keep me breathing
As the water rises up again
Before I slip away

You know the games I play
And the words I say
When I want my own way
You know the lies I tell
When you've gone through hell
And I say I can't stay
You know how hard it can be
To keep believing in me
When everything and everyone
Becomes my enemy and when
There's nothing more you can do
I'm gonna blame it on you
It's not the way I want to be
I only hope that in the end you will see
It's the Opheliac in me

I'm your Opheliac
My stockings prove my virtue
I'm open to attack
But I don't want to hurt you
Whether I swim or sink
That's no concern of yours now
How could you possibly think
You had the power to know how
To keep me breathing
As the water rises up again
Before I slip away

You know the games I play
And the words I say
When I want my own way
You know the lies I tell
When you've gone through hell
And I say I can't stay
You know how hard it can be
To keep believing in me
When everything and everyone
Becomes my enemy and when
There's nothing more you can do
I'm gonna blame it on you
It's not the way I want to be
I only hope that in the end you will see
It's the Opheliac in me

Studies show:
Intelligent girls are more depressed
Because they know
What the world is really like
Don't think for a beat it makes it better
When you sit her down and tell her
Everything('s) gonna be all right
She knows in society she either is
A devil or an angel with no in between
She speaks in the third person
So she can forget that she's me

Doubt thou the stars are fire
Doubt thou the sun doth move
Doubt truth to be a liar
But never doubt
Doubt thou the stars are fire
Doubt thou the sun doth move
Doubt truth to be a liar
But never doubt
Doubt thou the stars are fire
Doubt thou the sun doth move
Doubt truth to be a liar
But never doubt I love

You know the games I play
And the words I say
When I want my own way
You know the lies I tell
When you've gone through hell
And I say I can't stay
You know how hard it can be
To keep believing in me
When everything and everyone
Becomes my enemy and when
There's nothing more you can do
I'm gonna blame it on you
It's not the way I want to be
I only hope that in the end you will see
It's the Opheliac in me

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Run Run Run

Run run run!
Don't stop to catch your breath!
Run till you can't run anymore
And then end in death
Fall off a cliff
or get run over by run-away horses
Don't slow down!
Or you'll go up all the way down
And then you'll forget to return
So run, run, run...

Eight Likes and Dislikes (is that not the most descriptive title ever? ...Oh wait. I just ruined it. Damn it!)

Things I like:
Good company
The moon
The color Green
Strawberry Fields
Good books
Connections; Of the cause and effect kind (Both logical and otherwise)

Things I do NOT like:
Most vegetables
Religious fanatics
Sand in my shoes (unless I'm on a beach, in which case, it's all cool)
Attendance (The lack of, to be precise)

Lives and Dreams

"Row, Row, Row your boat
Gently down the Stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily;
Life is but a dream..."

I suppose surrealism is hard to escape when you're already unsure about the difference between dreaming and staying awake. I blame the insane sleeping hours. I could blame a lot of other things, but this shall do for now. Then again, it's not exactly a bad thing. An "odd dream-like quality" sounds nice enough.

I slept from after breakfast to before dinner today. There goes Sunday. Spent completely in Morpheus's realm. It's okay. I had a few decent dreams. At least from what I can remember. There was good music, new places, a sun rise and even enough cigarettes. And the people were interesting too.

I prefer waking up from nightmares over supremely happy dreams. I think everyone does. Or should anyway. Once you wake up from a nightmare, there's nothing but relief waiting for you. Relief that none of it was real. On the other hand, waking up from a dream where everything is going fine is just sad. I once had a dream where the whole world made sense. (Well, not once I woke up, but at least while I was in it!) Everything was almost perfect! Lillin woke me up from it and it took ten minutes of conversation before the realization hit me: None of it was real.
Not cool.

I've always wondered about the whole life-dream angle. IF life were just a dream, then could you just pass from one dream to another mid-way? Would that be a parallel universe? Or is it necessary that you wake up? And if it is, is dying the only way you have?

If life was just a dream... how would you feel waking from it? Would you be glad? Relieved? Sad? Devastated?
Would you even remember at all?

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Untitled (Ophelia)

Dream that faded dream again

Watch the lilies wind away
And you turn to out-run the rain
If you'd only beg me to stay.
Giddy with mirth, she appears
Follow this path you shan't tread on
Watch me go, I carry your fears
and soon, it will have been too long
Seven steps ahead, and then a mile
Perhaps a plea shall slow us down?
Or perhaps we shall only smile
While I seem to forget not to drown
Lies? A mad girl does not lie
She skibbles down paths that just aren't there
Reach out for the pure blue sky
and I'm sorry we seem to forget to care
Call my name just once again
Let the river bring you to me
Oh, but you're running from the rain
and I never said that I would not leave
Is there really nothing left to say?
Will you not let me live your lie?

Will you never ask me to stay?
Then it's goodbye my love, Goodbye.

Friday, April 3, 2009

A Foolish Alternate World OR The Stairway People

Imagine this:

In an alternate world, there are no stairs. There have never been any stairs. Many many years ago, while this world was still growing and changing, man-kind had just learned how to walk. There are no such things as natural stairs(and since this is true in our world and this alternate place is based on Earth, it makes sense). Humans only had slope-y hills and mountains. When they started building steps (not stairs mind you, just steps), some people got the hang of it pretty quickly, while others struggled. It became even worse when the stairways came into being. People would get stuck halfway and refuse to move in either direction, which would mean hours of screaming, cajoling, dirty laundry and, well, you get what I mean. It was awful. Society as a whole was affected. The neighbors, the friends and especially the poor disappointed ashamed parents.

Soon enough, stairs were banned. It started with one kingdom doing so on the grounds of "public safety" and "right to life". It sounded nice enough a reason, and the people who had stairs were too busy climbing higher and higher to read the news or fight for the right to use such an obvious and simple pleasure. Handy stairs.

Other kingdoms soon followed the same path. First, specific kinds of stairs were banned, which did make some sense because these were rickety and dangerous and a kingdom must protect its subjects. But then the rulers went loco. And believe it or not, there came a time in this world's history when almost all countries had banned all kinds of stairs. The pro-stairwayo people were confused. Why would their stairs be "a menace to society". The round tables even came up with reports from some royal sycophantic pretty physician who would make a grand speech that no one understood. The gist being: Don't climb stairs. They're bad.

"Bad for who?" asked the dizzily confused pro-stairwayos (they had just run down a flight of stairs. They would be fine in a while.)
"F you," said the royal sycophantic pretty physician, with disgust "and for society"
"How?" they asked, still confused, though a few of them started to look doubtful.
"Because they're bad for your knees."
"Why?" they persisted
"Because I'm a royal physician and I said so!" he declared royally.
"Ummm... how is it bad for society, sir?" asked a young boy. "I mean, they are our knees, are they not?"
"Foolish ungrateful wretch!" he roared, "Your parents worked so hard to raise you and you send you to physician school or into a trader society and you go throw it away for some heights???"

The boy felt something the stairway people didn't very often. Not back then. It was like a little pin had stabbed him somewhere inside. It made him gasp for air, and he remembered the stairs. So, it was decided. Stairs were banned. There were a few liberal kingdoms that allowed the practice. Both of building and climbing. But they had rules. Still, it was a much fairer society.

The people who loved those stairs and climbing them too much to care about some order by some guy they had never met and couldn't care less about laughed and continued. They were hunted, found, imprisoned, punished. Sometimes, they were even executed.

Meanwhile, the rest of the world continued using slopes to reach heights. It took longer and they were tired the next morning. Their heads hurt, but it was the only way. The new world order was aiming for a flat world, but realizing that many people still wanted to see higher ground once in a while, they allowed slopes. Once again, there were rules about the inclinations and angles. which is fine because by now, cars had been invented, and you didn't want one rolling all the way down crashing and burning into a hundred different cars.

So, slopes stayed. And the stairway people had no idea why they were discriminated against. They liked watching the new sun rise over a sleeping world. They liked looking at the snaky winding river miles below. They liked being closer to the clouds.

The slopes were okay for some heights, but higher ones become dangerous. The stair people were now divided too. There were the usual "complete freedom" supporters, the ones willing to reach a compromise and of course, there were the rickety bridge people. They were bad for the stairway people's image because these kids would leave home to go live entire lives on those bridges. They hardly ever came down. And it was usually only when they wanted wood to patch up the falling dying groaning bridge. Naturally people who had never used stairs were sceptical of all stairs.

The almost-natural stairway people were not trusted either. Even the people who agreed that they were much safer than slopes thought that once someone fell in love with the art of climbing, he would want to try different stairways. And this would eventually lead him to the rickety and narrow bridges, whre lives were wasted.

The normal stairway people protested - peacefully of course - and held concerts on elevated land that had more stairs leading to it than slopes and everyone was happy. But they were slowly pushed away by society's collective guilt and fear, till all stairway members had to live in secrecy.

Most of them had underground basements that had stairs, or had collected stepping stones to climb over gates in the school. College had the most of these hidden stairs. The teachers knew they existed, especially the ones who had studied there. But being responsible, calm, brain washed grown ups, they ignored it completely. If stairs were ever found, there was hell. Extreme consequences would follow. And once again the ashamed disappointed parents would send those little pin pokes inside.

So, almost all people either lied to the ones they loved completely or at least partially ("Yes mum, I do like looking at the clouds once in a while, but chill, I'm under control. I never go too high and I only use slopes"). A lesser number would just get tired of it all and go live in lands full of stairways. Where nothing was flat and there were a million new horizons to discover. But the pins went with them. Everywhere.

Now you tell me. The Stairway people, what did they do wrong? Why was it bad? Don't people have a right to their own bodies? I know no one was promised complete freedom, but if you don't own yourself, what do you own?
They're discriminated against, looked down upon, hated and despised. They're pitied... Which is worse, because they're the ones who've seen that sun rise and they could tell you so much if you just took the time to listen. If you just stopped wasting every day trying to flatten out the world. What would you do with flat land? You'd be able to see for miles and miles, but how would you take winding roads without being able to see where you will land up?

Where would you go?

The stairs will always exist. As long as man-kind does. Banning them just makes them a little more dangerous because people have to rely on shady dealers for wood and other material. Plus they can't trust the Watchers so if someone is ever sick, they'll think twice before trying to save his life. Because they could get caught, imprisoned, fined and maybe even executed. And no one wants that.

Imagine this world. Isn't it such a foolish one? Thank God we don't live in such a world. How could we? We have democracy.


I made the decision to attend class at 0830 this morning. Hence, I did not have any time to prepare myself for it. I got to class on time and luckily those two hours didn't seem more than twice as long. I was expecting it to be much worse. I guess the kakuro helped.

I'm now reading Catch-22. Been meaning to for a while. Maybe a week before project submissions isn't exactly the best time to start, but well... too late.

That reminds me. I haven't been to Pecos in so long. I think it's been over two weeks. We've all been so broke that we can just about manage enough money to go drink at Alibi. Well, after these projects are done with. I also have to see Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas sometime next week.

Talking about movies, the latest Fast and the Furious has the original cast. Brilliant. I can't wait! I'm sorry. I'm a sucker for speed. And the flashy cars. Not to mention Paul Walker isn't all that bad looking.

Anyhow, before any of that, I need to finish work. Sigh. Does anyone want to do a project for me?

Thursday, April 2, 2009

I'm Bored

It's too hot to be nice. Cut me some slack. This insane still, dead heat is messing with my head. Why won't it rain? Why won't it snow? I want it to snow. It would be brilliant! Imagine waking up one summer morning and looking out the window only to see nothing but white everywhere. And it would still be falling.

I just saw a short film on the Aghoris. Which kinda messes with my head because I've been listening to "Us and Them". The extent of the scope of "ordinary" is seriously being tested. Though yeah, I do completely believe that they have every right to their own rituals and practices. Moreover, it's not like they're hurting anyone. And yeah, religious sentiments can go take a hike.

I can't think anymore. It's like I have nothing to think about. I suppose that's a good thing once in a while. I suppose.

I feel like watching the "Extreme Ghostbusters". That was one fun show. Unfortunately the network has been annoyingly arbitrary today.

Also, I've realized that I've become super Paranoid. It's okay. I don't really mind. Better to be cautious than in trouble, right? I think so. It's cool when I have people around who tell me when to chill out and when to be careful. It's just irritating when I keep getting told to "relax". I don't want to fucking relax!

We're all growing old. I know that isn't exactly a secret or surprise, but it's happening way too fast. Way too soon. In a few more months, I'll be twenty. That's freaky. I mean, where did two whole decades go? Where did the last two years go?

The whole thin rope analogy keeps coming to mind. Reminds me of the one about thin ice. Well, once you're on thin ice, you can't exactly stop or slow down, you know? You have to keep moving, never staying in any one place for too long. It's not like you can just wish for a stronger surface and end up there! You have to find it, and till then you're going to have to skate on the damned thin ice!

Anyway, I'm just really bored. I should start work on the projects.
For sure.