Filed under: muse
i learnt a lesson today.
never bring your white(Caucasian, to be politically correct) friend to have dim sum with you. they watch you with trepidation the whole meal.
MUCH, MUCH, safer to have something boring like… pancakes… or… pasta?
i am much amused.
i want to eat oysters rockefeller at the original Antoine’s in New Orleans. Mad Men is the best tv series ever.
free will is a ridiculously simple concept to understand, yet factor in relationships and you get the concept warped beyond recognition in one psycho party’s fettered psyche.
it occurred to me, that one cannot force anyone to believe in something they do not want to believe in. one can strong-arm someone to acquiesce, albeit halfheartedly of a chore of their choice, but a belief is a fire within, chosen only by the metaphorical heart, and stuck there, weathering the storms and change.
yes, free will is indeed an easy concept to comprehend, but do you apply it correctly in direct correlation to relationships? in the absence of its application, a power struggle ensues, and a relationship without free will, is doomed to fail.
i think i paid a very dear price for this lesson, so friends, i hope you learn well.
Filed under: muse
i can’t decide which skincare line to switch to…
L’Occitane or Muji??
after spending tonnes of money on expensive brands, i have decided to give up and i have narrowed down these two brands.
hmmm…..
Filed under: muse
after a long career on the internet, ask yourself what you have achieved. have you left a string of aliases and wasted bandwidth with your multiple email accounts and caused others trouble with your multiple msn accounts or have you been a good netizen and went mainstream with one email account, one alias, one youtube account, one facebook account, one friendster account, and you have no idea what the hell is LULLAR. is the internet a tool for you or is the internet as inanimate as the cup you drink from. do you surf grotesque pictures from ogrish and rotten.com or do you gawk and stream pornographic copulation from various websites and jack off, then delete the history as you feel ashamed after you spill your seed. or are you like me, psycho online stalker who views pictures of long-lost people over and over. are you one of the desperate male people who trawl the net for dating websites and sex or do you shun these ugly websites and trawl pubs instead for lonely girls. are you just in need of entertainment and a shameless pirate. perhaps you could be lonely, and you trawl forums and social networking sites for people(geeks) like you. how about the gamers you ask. pathetic wannabes who think a few arrow keys and a mouse makes them a soldier on a mission. what happened to good ol’ let’s-shoot-him-with-my-watergun. everybody wants something from the internet. i want to be my true self on the net, no masks, no keeping up appearances, no lies, no acting dumb, just me(and my keyboard).
ask yourself the underlying question, what do you want from the internet?
Filed under: muse
running, running, running.
ever heard of the butterfly effect? i wonder ten years from now, if i will express regret about the butterflies i stepped on now, or if i will smile and praise myself for a job well-done?
butterfly, butterflies. you’re the little thing(s) that matter.
Filed under: muse
haven’t you ever wondered how a baby pops out of a vagina so beautiful and innocent, and slowly his/her soul blackens and eventually becomes a nasty pain in the ass. it really is quite sad to see people talk bad about you. how did you become so black and malevolent. i really wonder why. is it money? is it rejection? is it ambition? how does someone use other people for their own gain to such ludicrous extents? i always saw a glimmer of hope no matter what everyone said. perhaps sometimes my naivety gets the better of me, but i still choose to believe that most people in general are beautiful inside, no matter what.
okay, i’m just putting my thoughts in words; not that it is any of my business. on another note, i bought 4 dresses and my peter jensen for topshop rain mac today! totally b r o k e!
a year ago i was beautiful on
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love
i was so high i couldn’t see how painful it would be to fall from this pedestal no no not at all. now that i’ve been pushed from the pedestal all i have are broken limbs and bones. it does not matter how broken everything is but the heart and spirit no longer exist. rub the
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seed of satan into my skin
after vigorous copulation with the devil, yes the dull ache can you feel it
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throbbing throbbing throbbing
away down south like a purple bruise deep inside. clad in all our sins i am me, and will always be, till the day i die, just like beautiful emily says it. if i had stuck to my guns i wouldn’t have ended up
-
shooting myself
in the foot and thighs and heart and soul and us.
the perfect halo of love escapes me. and today someone asked me
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if i was a faithful person
. i didn’t quite know how to answer that question. i have no faith in me yet i am faithful. faith is not transferable; once gone forever gone poof woof toof! i am gone with the wind
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irrevocably yours
yet not quite yours was i ever yours i don’t know.
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what IS faith
i want to know
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how does faith feel in my hands
is it silky is it soft is it hard is it steely is it intangible is it how i feel right now.
i am a forgettable piano piece
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played
by a forgettable pianist in the background of a crowded hotel bar that nobody but the loneliest notice whilst the rest chatter about forgettable things and forget my presence and very being
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i am invisible
and when i end nobody notices but my
-
player
with his tired fingers pining for somebody who scorns him for his low wages and unstable occupation.
i draw in sharp bursts of air into these lungs but yet each breath feels like the last; unforgiving, cold, stale, just like i was trapped in my own cannister of stale air in a cheap, yellow plastic bottle.
i don’t know if i made a mistake, neither do i care. all i care about is the next hedonistic pursuit. i want to be like dorian gray where every mistake i make shows not on me, my face, or my heart, but a painting locked up in an attic. i am slowly making my conscience disposable like a paper napkin. i no longer feel pity for every drunk destroyed destitute aborigine who asks me for a coin or a fag.
the only innocent thing left in the world is really an unborn child. how cruel is it to make one, give birth to one, and watch the blank slate of innocence slowly grow black……………..
i want to move to a cave with a random handsome stranger with good genes and make and raise four beautiful babies someday. (:
it’s sad how reminders of what used to be are everywhere. how people change, how people behave, how people used to be loving and kind……………………………………………….
now for self-indulgence.
drive me back into mindless unreality mindless talk mindless actions mindless poker mindless drinking. i want to walk down the road again feeling like a bona fide hiatus on a cool wintry day with the sun setting on the sunset coast in brilliant hues of increasingly darkening shades of orange blue crimson and what looks like the edge of the earth. this existence is miserable and dolorous and i can no longer take this bullshit. once you’ve been away and feeling like you left every damned thing behind you never want to come back ever again and when you do, it feels like utter bullshit; this sham of a life called the reality of being nothing and being someone’s nothing and being shamefully faceless voiceless nameless colorless thing that screams yet nothing comes out. it hurts so much. i want my lost haven back. i want someone to create a haven for me. no friends just you and me and solitude. but no never. i shall only have fleeting glimpses of heaven. but at least it was beautiful.
it is not that i churn out strings of words in a thoughtless manner no but the weight of them they get progressively heavier and heavier bogging me down and fettering carefree me and my ankles start to hurt and soon i keel over in my head falling backwards into this endless spiral of words that i fear and shun saying yet they smother and twist the strings of words around claustrophobic me choking and suffocating choking and suffocating. i die a mental death over and over and over from what my brain churns out. i know i throw heavy weights at you with words did i not say the pen is mightier than the sword but you ought to take them lying down. men are men because they are strong and they take heavy weights and i subscribe to the traditional notion of a man but not the traditional notion of a woman. it is how we fundamentally differ because i would date a woman if i wanted someone infinitesimally female i would go back to my old ways and dabble with my darker side over and over. this is exactly why i say i have no heart. people like you rip bits out of me until i have nary an ounce of it left. my heart! my heart! what heart! i have no heart! othello kids does this phrase sound familiar.
i am a hollow shell a replica of someone else despite the oscar wilde quote on the banner i can never see it i am oblivious to everything except how ugly every damned thing is. occasionally beauty peeks through the thick hide of gross abomination as dark as the human soul. it is curious how the soul is often portrayed as a white mist swirling out of one’s head and of the form of its shell. utter nonsense is bullshit rubbish trash tomfoolery poppycock shit. the soul is a dark blob of ink inside my sub-consciousness staining every damned thing it touches we try so damned hard to conceal the stains or stop it from staining but we will never win we were born to be goddamned hedonists we are. hedonism does not mean unabashed promiscuity. it means the unbridled doing of everything the “heart” desires. i reiterate. the bloody HEART does not exist. if i hear another “my heart is breaking into a million pieces”, i will sit on you and slap your head with a club like the men used to club the women. like i always say being heterosexual is crazy. being common does not mean being normal. ’tis strange even i cannot understand this because i pretend to be more heterosexual than i really am. insanity is insane but i am sane enough to say that insanity is unsane and henceforth i am as sane as sane is itself.
i wish all you anonymous readers would leave a comment on this post. tell me a secret, anything from how ugly i am to how fucked your life is.
don’t leave a name, and leave any random email in the email portion.
just.talk.to.me.dammit.stop.reading.and.leaving.
