plugin&play
If you read, you will judge. | ||||||||
My Dear we're slow dancing in a burning room |
Sunday, November 28, 2010, 10:45 PM
Thursday, November 25, 2010, 3:28 PM
If that be the case, where then lies the special negativity associated with the word? How can you put down a person who shows traits of said 'sickness' when everyone has it? Much like castigating another person for contributing to global warming when we all really do, unless you're a respirating tree. Human nature is contradictory and sickening. Wednesday, November 24, 2010, 8:37 PM
I need to sit down for a while and just stop thinking. , 1:51 PM
I was taking the evening bus yesterday on the way home from the econs paper (which went fantastic) and again was caught up with the evening work crowd. My 2 hour bus ride takes me to exotic places like the CBD area and downtown Tanjong Pagar which is basically the corporate district of Singapore. I was feeling adventurous so i put my ipod on shuffle and the next song that came on as the bus hit the first stop at the Subway beside Central Boulevard was Joni Mitchell's Both Sides Now and quite incidentally, a whole bunch of office workers boarded the bus, one middle-aged pot-bellied beast of a man struggled up to the second deck and was barely breathing right as he squeezed into the seat in front of me. Robot after robot, they came like a swarm, all dressed in shirts and pants, blouses and briefcases, make-up masking their un-smiling faces and eyes that were so beyond dead it scared me to think these people operate on a daily basis as human beings. The only thing crossing my mind was: These are adults. 10-20 years down the road i'm probably going to be one of them, i'm going to be taking a bus back from my boring ass office job in the middle of a stuffy old city with as much excitement as a medicated housefly. You always hear adults saying 'it may not be the best job in the world, but i love what i'm doing.' If anyone sitting around me had told me that i would've laughed in their faces and handed them a name-tag that said 'bullshitter.' It got me thinking, how long have they been doing that? A year? 2 years? 3? It must feel like forever to fall into this continuum of routine, this ridiculous tedium that they're all subjected to. As always, my mind started making comparisons with my own life (a common trait for people like me who up to a certain point are as unconcerned with the future as an elephant is with the small fly resting on its head) and it brought me back a few months ago to when I was still caught in the routine of school and rehearsals. 730-4, brain damaging school work, 430-9, insane rehearsals for multiple shows sometimes all in one night. I remembered then a train ride back with Fee and Mich one night when we were talking about basically nothing, silence was the subject topic and a closed mouth was the only action going on. As they both slumbered on the moving train (a handy skill i need to pick up one day) i thought there and then that that was what working life would feel like, but i was completely ok with it. I had those two and a whole other bunch of guys who were right by my side feeling as worn out and exhausted as i was and i felt so confident that I'm ok as long as i've got all of them with me. We'd eat together every now and then, I'd say or do something completely stupid like i was under medication and we'd all have a laugh, then we'd start whining about our lives, making witty remarks at our dictatorial fuhrer(s) and eventually we'd all be breaking down into spasming bodies of laughter by the end of the night at our regular Subway joint. Friday nights were the best. If i could, i'd capture those moments and those feelings in a bottle just so i never forget how it feels like, and 10-20 years down the road when i'm stuck in an office job being and pertaining to the very definition of sad and bored, i'd open it up and look inside to remember how it felt. No Criss Angel or David Blain/Copperfield can ever re-create that kind of a feeling. It's a kind of magic that you tend to lose as you get older. I guess i'm just worried that at some point, I'm going to lose that joy myself. The past 2 years have been the best of my life and i want every year from this one on to be bigger and better than the one before. How? I've no clue. But i have a feeling that we all live on in each other, a little part of us grows together with the next one and just when you think every thing's lost, you can look back together and see that it's not. I don't want that to happen to us, I don't want to drift away like seeds in the wind, I'd like to be able to take the bus back with a couple of friends from now and still feel the same way. I think i'm scared of the future, and there's just no way of stopping it. Shit. Wednesday, November 17, 2010, 2:35 PM
The music floats in and suddenly it's like i'm Sinatra with you waiting round the bend with our huckleberry friend. There's so much to be doing when this is all over, an entire lifetime it seems of things to do, worlds we need to see, people we need to talk to, roles we have to play, there's no brochure in this world big enough to fit all that. I'd like to write a draft of everything and mail it to the office of the lonely planet publishers just so they'd print a copy of 'Exploring Freedom with Andrew and-' But then again, that's just me, and us is a concept not exactly in its perfect stages. We all need some sort of obsession, something to occupy ourselves with when the time comes. Offers being thrown before me on gold-rimmed plates with honey drizzled on the top. It's almost painfully arduous to resist jumping head first into it all without a second thought. But repercussions. Repercussions make this world go round. There could be a thousand and one things you did and didn't do and that would have made all the damn difference to you when you look back through the looking glass at the rest-stop of your race. Some things just don't apply anymore. I'm not a great magician though maybe i used to be, back when the world was simpler and time was not an imaginary friend, but looking at you seems to transport that magic back into a part of me i thought i'd lost. I've been looking for myself all this while and then you find me. You found me. Friday, November 12, 2010, 10:57 PM
It's a mad rush but i love that feel. Incredible how powerful your mind can make you feel. I need to learn to make it stop. That hysteria carries on in my head all the way. I've forgotten what it feels like to fall asleep, to feel tired. A few months ago, sleep was the best thing in the world to me, an escape i could drown in for just a couple of hours before i'd have to wake and face the bullshit world again but now it's just another chore. Sleep to wake up to do more work. Vicious tedium. Sometimes i just don't want to fall asleep cos i don't wanna wake up to do more work. I mean what more can i do? Even studying has a limit. The syllabus can only do a lapdance around my head once or twice before it starts to lose its freshness. Like sucking the bleak out of a stubbed out half-bud of a crappy menthol cigarette that's been lying in the gravel for days. I don't feel tired and that scares me. I want to close my eyes and be able to just click shut down without having to go through this whole process of 'falling asleep.' It's putting alot on the line if you think about it. If someone was tired, they'd just fall asleep immediately. But if you're not exactly tired but know you have to sleep you have to go through a process of falling asleep. Closing my eyes and sitting there won't help. Thinking won't help. Getting worried that you can't fall asleep won't help. You need to somehow block out your own thoughts and feel so tired that you eventually dip into a state of calm where you ignore all the little details of your consciousness and eventually just fall asleep. It's a tough process. Worst part is, i think i'm getting more comfortable with the process of sitting for an exam than falling asleep. Sunday, November 7, 2010, 7:03 PM
The thunder breaks the sound, Inside the children slumber, Thout' a smile to be found, Slowly walls they crumble, Fall into settled dust, Soft simmering gravel grumble, Drowning in lice and lust, Distant war drums strike, Like bullets through the air, 'Stay calm, you'll be alright,' The children start to stare, Like mice inside a church, A noise could chase away, The eagles mound and perch, Eyeing us, their prey, Beaten into soldiers, We held our hands and marched, Weight too much to shoulder, Our throats are torn and parched, Blood drips down our foreheads, In darkness with no light, But hands we hold our pain we shed, We'll make it through this fight. Tuesday, November 2, 2010, 9:59 PM
Wait, wait like a lion stalking an already dead deer, cold and stiff Ebbing away at the corners of our hollow souls till nothing's left, Teeter on the loom of a whole other world, shouldering weights we couldn't lift, Closer, and closer, days and weeks flying by at the same pace we make conversations, hi, hello, you ready? I'm good. You? 3rd, 4th, 8th, 35th, 152nd, 230th, closer like the shadow getting bigger as we walk towards a brick wall, closing in the distance until suddenly it seems as if distance was like fading air, dissolving dust in decrepit pits of blood filling up a hole in the ground, deep wells mean well but don't quench thirsts. Some far off corner of a crumbling building Robin shoots a quiver of speed at my head but the apple is not there and slowly i feel the world around me shedding like the skin of a snake, hair falling off a dying body in a cold room, the cement of the morgue greets my teeth as i grit them, hard onto the ground like a sack of broken pots collected from a forgotten tomb in the middle of the desert. Insignificant. I wake up. We stand in a court full of high priests. Blind relics waiting to laugh at our faces. Their hands reach into deer-skin pouches and scoop salt out, scattering them at our blistered feet. We scream but we have no mouths. Silence like a fallen tree in an empty forest. Who's to hear it? One bye one, we are reduced to alphabets. A, C, D, D, B, A, A, D, C, C, C, A, U, Struggle to not cave in to the weight, knees, joints muscles, advance, retreat, advance, retreat. Sick and tired. I'm with you. Signs. Indicators. Codes. The root of all assumption. We made them so we could feel intelligent, so that we could tell when something was happening, about to happen, or not happening, everywhere. Low GDP indicates weak growth in a country's economy, an unusually high exchange rate means that your country will most probably experience a dip in your export revenue if Marshall's condition doesn't hold true. A word like fuck or shit indicate the author's disjunctured state of mind, aggression breeding from deeper emotional states of discord and chaos. Effect? To invoke catharsis and pathos in the reader. Signs are everywhere. Stemmed from paranoia. Feeble attempts to instill order on our already chaotic lives, signs to trigger responses to make dealing with a situation quicker and easier. I'm tired of following your signs. Your face like a flipping coin, inconstant. I can't tell, i don't know. Don't use that word on me, stop trying to make it seem as you don't know that i care. I follow your lead like a jumping dog responds to the flick of another being's wrist holding a branch, eager to catch for you. Eager to run with a bucket to catch your falling tears. Eager to give you the warmth you want. The warmth you need. Pluck you out like a thorn in the side of my arm, cut you off like a hang nail digging into the side of my toe, unplug you like a heart moniter dug deep into the drum beat of my heart until all that i hear is a constant beep that drowns out all the other sounds that you're making until i'm erased away by a bigger hand and my dust is blown away into the winds of time and time itself stopping so that my existence becomes the very dead thing that centres the core of a frozen rock buried in a mountain of solid ice. Don't wake me up. I'm tired. |
the machiavellian ist
Vanity isn't a sin, a little narcissm wouldn't hurt.Andrew. Music. Food. People. What more could you possibly want? |
partnersincrime
One day when i wake up and find the motive and time to link anybody, i'll let you know. backtoyesterday
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theventingmachine
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