eager

spring creeps into this swamp, and the nymphs now speak in excited whispers of big waters and surprise. there's a distinct buzz in the air and it's not the damn mosquitoes.

here's to the end of a harsh winter!

plan

figure if i can fit enough things into m'schedule i won't have time to spare. this thinking business is what gets to me. think, think...wham.

to be reminded of the bitter truth, again and again! my failings, and then some more to follow.

missed lunches, more pretties and pokes. well, hullo shawty. sit and stare, and do nothing.

i hate me: actor, opportunist. the stage is where i belong. well, that's taken care of!

oh, love-for-sale world.

what's the point of all this, anyway- ungodly hours and self-pity.

cheers, cuervo. x

late night blues

to be the same again! we grow quieter with age, I reckon. by that logic, those who lapse into childhood, and those who never grew up- mao mao?

so what of growing. i pine for those days of abandon. duties, akh!

and we came to understand beauty. t'was a cruel truth to find- to have known and thrown the best of them. the resilient, the steadfast. the pure. we ask you of these others. of their shapely limbs and so what of their clothes and shoes. we bow to thee the righteous and stay awake in quiet homage to her strength.

would you listen to these blues the boys cooked up. in remembrance, in longing and in quiet resignation. consumed by our monsters, we're done-for little cookies! ha ha.

another little missy to prove the point. going in to lose, headfirst without a chute. again. all of you on a silver platter, pickings and morsels. for you, anyway.

bloodshot. x

no solace

early morning pilgrimage-

memories are a strange affair; strike without warning, and so vivid sometimes that it's cruel. i have not the heart to go back to where i know i belong. hear me, and know that i am, without you but a silhouette against a rising sun.

life passes this dark shadow and i bathe alone in unsung glory. x

well hullo, 2010

it's been ages, hasn't it.

the new year brings with it the looming fork in the road. the cross-roads clearer than ever, and just so in-your-face. i've turned 21. happy birthday to me. none the wiser for it all, it seems. except now i understand truly that i am a fool, and may remain one. the saving grace to this state, and the strategy in place is to thrive on m'ability to appear otherwise; knowledgeable, experienced...even trustworthy. trust. haha!

the God debate continues. i feel, and possibly know for certain now that there is no escaping my fate. i see the world for what it is, and i see the power-battles and political mechanisms in place, vivid and smack on. hullo, reality X10.

Wali Ullah. Protector. Friend.

i've given to free-writing, with no structure, no purpose- much like my wretched, existentialist state. why, mother must i go, yet again to the holy land. i have incorporated spiritual wandering into this life that i've created with daddy's bank account. for that, then i owe you, not the truth- because the only truth i've known is that there is none, and that when relativism comes into play, we're all standing on either side of the fence thinking we've got the one-up- but obedience.

oh well.

i've tasted defeat. it was a delightfully downward experience; a spiraling stupor, of sorts. i was in awe, and i became her. it's ironic how being empty can be so...wholesome. so complete in it's thematic entirety. i loved you, and the pain for which you stand, and for which you fight. the mourning and the rituals, vicious and cyclical- the quiet fury of an aching, broken child.

heavy hearts and the devil's piss make for long nights and sorrow.

i like this new practice of rambling without the strains of grammar and structure. pour out as it pours over, and we'll make lovely music out of it all. sing me a song, piano-man.

i am now convinced that man is a selfish, self-loathing addict.

and with that statement ladies and gentlemen, good night.

cheers.

dim

there is much to be said of the dimly-lit surroundings, and of the music. the warm, comforting hues and the sweet sound- foundagain favorites. for longing, for the fixyous and assorted mybaby blues.

I walked, and for a while the world was upside down. I walked on a carpet of night sky.

I picked up a seashell, made it special and threw it away.

to wander, but ultimately to drift. and then deeper, still.

feeling strong, friend?

falter, stumble

watch the fall.

I yearn for now, more than ever that drift to infinity.

and then some.

to the brats, to the pretenders. to the ambitious. to the happy, to the numb. the righteous, the weak. to the artiste and the muse. to the addicts. to the drug.

to feel the same

and then some.

life goes on

into the glow, friend.

roads

I thought of frost, and of roads.

of the straight and the narrow,

and of my winding path, with twists and surprise.

might all come together or come unraveled.

I'll take it, for the road less traveled.

--

There you go, beardtechman.

- Salesforce'll make a fully-customized CRM to cater to your needs. 

- Specialization and outsourcing, man. You can't afford to do this yourself.

corners..

the house becomes a home, and the boys are left to explore.

for all the new space, the lost gather in nooks and corners. 

I got lost today too, and celebrated with pixyish abandon- I dislike the frailty nurture brings, and how my resolve falters.

But the observation is significant, and just so poetic. 

The bedouin spoke with instinct rooted deep, and I made my connections. 

For those who wander, and those who stray; 

these corners forever provide solace

end, already.

crazy papers. awful timing, man.

juggling too many ideas, possibilities in my head. the ancients visit- and bring with them news and views from their wanderings. I see this again, as a picture. I hope to change this picture- the box, of the regular visitors, and the not-so-regular ones. I see the dimly-lit, smoky room with the electronic music playing at the back- crazy in it's thematic minimalism.

April draws closer, and brings with it hope. Change could come. Things could get better. They should get better. I'm eager to grasp this chance, as if it could be my last. As if this time I could get enough momentum going to break into a run. a release that I so crave.

And yet it's this preoccupation with said subject matter that I really don't need. I think there's a prerequisite here. This bridge to cross, this life to live. This horrid week. Or more..
But more isn't an option anymore. This must END.

Foolish child, stop dreaming.
=]

bloody sunday

slept. another ugly exam-week's starting tues.
running out of excuses.
discipline mode, man. zen.

ZEN.