Monday, February 28, 2005
- 9:22 pm
so yeah. after much ado, various trials and tribulations i got me my
six points
geez louise! i aint as stupid as i thought i was!
now i need to try for RJC.
- 5:33 pm
MILANISTA says:
and even that, my passion wanes
MILANISTA says:
i don't even have time or energy
MILANISTA says:
it's so stupid
MILANISTA says:
cannot..i refuse to let ti wane
akesh // nothing gold can stay says:
viagra. the solution for people who refuse to let it wane.
- 7:45 am
sunday afternoons always pass slowly and drudgingly by, the clocks hands ticking slowly away until at long last the hour hand hits the five thirty mark and im outta the house to play soccer. a most unpleasant word right now considering how i woke up at five this morning to watch real madrid lose 2-0 to deportivo la coruna (where is the love goddamnit). in any case its only 3:36 and i dont know whatll be happening today so we'll see as we go along.
having sound that uplifts you internally and speaks to you in your prescence; that is music, and all rammstein stand for at the moment. at least to me. so many messages in so many forms from so many people; hell, its almost like life. marilyn manson, eliades ochoa, they all got things to say though they all be in different forms. its all good, so we'll leave it at that.
its such a dusty day, the sun beating down on air so old its yellowed with age and everything in sight is dulled by its stifling suffocating grip. gone are the rains which washed out the air, which greened the trees and blackened the soil and returned life to where it once flourished with a greater magnitude of activity. now everything is so dead, so slow and sluggish it makes us all so lethargic and brings to mind the steady decline of morals and values in todays human society but then again; who cares? after all we'll be dead long before anything really extreme happens and cmon; face it- we all know there isnt really heaven or hell. or maybe there is; i dont know nor care.
starbucks provides the ideal platform for writing; the smell of fresh warm coffee in the air and a mocha frappechino on the table; the smooth green white logo on the outside pointing to a form of decadence away from the bumble and bustle of the outside world. sitting down on a wooden chair near the window, drinking coffee italian style watching the world pass you by, everyone on errands meaningless in the big picture. so what if you bought uncle jimbo that nice tie he probably isnt ever going to wear? we do so many pointless things for so many reasons; but then again dont ever forget that the road to hell was paved with good intentions (and guess what? the devil realised there were so many he decided to revamp hell and pave not just the roads; but the segway tracks for seniors in it too; and if im not mistaken maybe the spa).
let the world play on;
and leave us with a pen and pad.
fin
Saturday, February 26, 2005
- 10:11 pm
and to know that no matter what;
comrade ramya is always right.
move aside napoleon, theres a new chief in town-
and it aint you.
confusion takes us by the neck and swirls about in an irresistable tango until i realise its stepping on my feet too much and shove it off in some other direction.
come here; my star is fading
im leavin JJ soon, after i get my results on monday. its so sad how we have to adapt and then learn all the quirks, make all sorts of friends in a school and then leave..like that J2 i know only as chess club who insists on his good looks despite weighing three times more than your average rhinocerous. or rupa; who i will meet again, and again, and then again; in due course. or namita who might be going to the same JC as i am and so many more. but we have to leave, and in that sense i guess its good; for me anyhow.
its darker than usual, and the lights outside provice the only light available to the passing cars, the only visibility to the roads. what if they died? and then everything would be black as pitch..we would be blind, as we all are in reality until we reach that final understanding with the self most like to call nirvana.
the thing about the mind is its expanse. its so wide, it can do anything. it can make you believe things you know arent true (psychosomasis) and then believing things you might not really have wanted to (holy shit! thats one hot geriatric!). or not. you choose. do what you want. im just gonna be the guy who stands there and looks angry for nothing; no i actually i wont be there at all so what the fuck am i talking about?
in two days we'll get our results. its insane! its madness. its infinitely terrifying and nothing compares to the kick of crying over the loss of a mark; but that was in the past and now our kicks are back to haunt us. its so nerve wracking its hard to believe; unless you been through it already like our friend thenuga who is waiting for the point of no return to talk to me. see what happens. im hoping to get below ten points to get to RJC NJC or ACJC.
for us to understand the nature of lugubrity; we have to experience it. it is a manipulation of the mind and external factor upon the spirit to bring about deep feelings of grief owing to a number or a sequence of events.
i need to write; but inspiration slips my mind.
father grant me redemption
Friday, February 25, 2005
- 5:44 pm
starbucks and the aviator,
and silent movies watched in the dark,
with cold dispelled by the being of the other
my schooldays insane
my work's down the drain
well she's a total blam-blam
i asked her out and she..and then she..
everything changes; for better of for worse,
and today- everythings changed.
just a drive in saturday
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
- 5:56 pm
quite frankly, their answers were never definitive enough, nor expansive. he grew sick of waiting for nothing to become something; he a nobody to become somebody. he was tired of existing for its very sake and so killed himself.
its so boring. its all so bad. everyone is so mild, so airheaded so..ordinary. nothing will ever be how it was, a mundane swirl swallowing me whole in the realisation that nothing will change when nothing is done in an instance when there is nothing to do..but write. write and remember, write and reminisce, write and understand
it won't ever be that way again;
the way it was so long ago,
the only way to live,
what woulda been we'll never know
and i dont want to. enamourment with a memory is much easier because the future doesnt exist, and the past is all so clear; but at the same time its much harder. i need to delete the rest of the posts saved as drafts and go back to my void and wait to die. i was never so far from being alone yet never sunk deeper in the mire of solitude.
you take the legend for a fall
yesterday i say 'Hotel Rwanda' and 'Constantine' with my third cousin twice removed on the fathers' side, a person i havent seen in a long time, so yesterday was great.
a broken note to break the monotony
close my eyes and pretend that this crumpled up paper can be perfect again
fin
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
- 12:34 am
time never was no father of mine,
he only ever taught me to look back
and grieve
today i went out to get my singpass. it was hotter than usual, so i grabbed a 165 down and went straight in and got it done. there. joyful interesting segment for the day. now double up in laughter and go kill yourself.
the past few days have been..i dont know. my mood swings from manic to depressive and back, and this morning i dint feel like going to skool, so i slept till one and later on at about nine went to the gym. i had to convince grace to come down and open it first though, so i spent the remaining hour in there working out; and pretty soon i might end up like james.
this friday the JAE results are probably coming out; and im scared as hell. what if i fucked up? or maybe i did really well? i dont know. if i get the grades i need though, im hoping to be staring into entrance to RJC or NJC, and maybe my parents'll let me get a tatoo (and even if they dont its not like theyll ever find out when i get one).
so ive been thinking about how things are gonna be. i might be a doctor, though i hate the sciences; but most people tell me i should be a lawyer. i dont know; its not like i wanna be any of those god knows i want to go overseas and act for the love of drama. and then by the time im 50 im supposed to have won an academy award (and even if all this doesnt work out i still got my exit strategy! i can still be that old man living in a cave in the mountain). life stretches so far ahead and im so confused; and then im not. im clearer than a pool of water and i know what i need to do, but is that really how i want to go? i dont know.
ill be leavin stupid fuckin JJC anyway; its only redeeming quality are its people. people like narin namita rupa anasuya farez vikram vicky nabil and the made up name football people (muthu swaminathan and friend), people whose real names i regretably never remembered, and probably never will.
do you remember what we were, how we lived/ do you remember everything i said about us two/do you remember everything we said we'd do/do you remember how much i loved you/we were a dream luv, me and blank
the post remains unread, and ac milan are back on top.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
- 9:32 pm
all that was lost to be lost and remain unfound until found
how quiet everything is; until you come to see that in the background everything is so loud and lookin at you so much so that youve built your own walls around you; impenetrable to your lesser self. and self belief and wonder swirl about in tantric mixes about your inner being and immolates the essence in a bright flare of talent and energy; smashing down every wall and being yourself for those precious woefully limited number of hours. to be on the stage, to be free, and to be yourself. that is purpose of the soul and ultimate expression of the human spirit; changing ideas, revolutionising time expenditure.
its colder than ever
all the energy leaves, slowly and surely. eventually i will find myself and bring me back up to speed but until then we will die and live in the most morbid sense of the word. 'mor', i belive, has links to death, as seen in morgue, mortuary, morbid and mordecai. but just for the sake of it, lets throw in moron.
the stars dance about delightfully in the sky above the world they care nothing about, shining just beyond our reach whilst we persevere in reaching them although endowed with the knowledge that if such a wont is fulfilled and perpetuated, it would be the end of us a species. throw us into the sun and watch us burn. or hold us to the self and glow in the warmth of being.
i dont know how to express it off a stage fail in words;
words i dare not; cannot say to you
for the past binds us all to itself
storm amongst the reeds
- 2:24 pm
the son of providence on the road to perdition
nothing gold can stay
- 12:24 pm
depression in the most morbid sense;
fascination almost akin to the sensation of dread
hair standing up on the back of the neck
before being slammed back down by the dullness of
depression
-akesh-
it looms over my head like a shade, holding me down and encapsulating all emotion and energy into a tiny ball aquirable only through a huge influx of energy and purpose. it hangs heavy on the heart; shackles the soul in a spellbinding rhapsody of silent thought and darkened light. when nothing holds purpose, and purpose seems so far away. it threatens to break us, or at least the part of me that isnt dead yet. i present you with my demise, my death and cut the smiles off your faces without the threat of death there is no reason to live at all. im confused, thrown into depths of despair for want of purpose, for direction in an emotional sense. a pathway flying off in all directions and meeting with dead ends. lights begin to open up, but they are a long way away and partially real.
aurora borealis is a projection of the beauty of nature onto the crisp, cold artic sky. the moving lights shift to and fro above the white, white snow in an entrancing dance holding the viewer captive and realising his life is complete; fulfilled by such amazing unquestionable beauty.
enamour amour
of directions to take and ways to go
it holds us all to trance as it dances; this aurora borealis of life
Saturday, February 19, 2005
- 1:34 pm
12:51
you seemed depressed by the way you came in,
tell us a story,
i know your not boring
im so tired. its night, and outside the steady creak of chirping crickets fill the air while a slow breeze blows about this humid night. the clouds are so beautiful, high up in their own little haven, the envy of everything beneath them especially me. slowly again depression takes its grip as i swing to depression for so many reasonsl and so few. when the most important things in life and the least important are fused together in one giant amalmagam of a puzzle piece missing from everything that ever was a part of who i was.
emotion is a wonderfully strange little thing..its an essential part to the being especially mine. i live my life through emotion and creative expression- i am the dramatist. emotion however is powerful when honed, and im killing myself; im playing it too high. i dont have much energy left; i need the joy of the dramatic production to throw me back to life but it is held tantalisingly out of reach. this all sounds so stupid.
this world holds no meaning. everything was created for nothing at all; existence exists mainly for its own existential beliefs and the belief that there must be existence for the existence of anything. nothing means anythingl its all another part in a pretty jigsaw puzzle with no particular purpose.
i keep few friends; i hold my real social circles small. its wonderful to be talking to someone who was like a best friend to me again; and then go watch movies with her.
maybe things are better, maybe things are worse, i dont know.
im just exhausted.
ramesh's panathea
Thursday, February 17, 2005
- 4:31 pm
when the only truth can be found in all my saved drafts,
when many of them have been deleted,
when all we offer are ourselves,
when we know things we cannot say,
when we hold back;
then, everything i show you
is really,
a piece of my death.
im still waiting for my graveyard train
its funny how night comes to pass and the world changes; everything seen so differently in the day is seen again at night, the sinks low, beyond sight and up comes the moon. its nice that we can find some constancy in these everyday happenings when our own sad short lives are so full of indiscriminate change, when joy pauses fleetingly by the doorstep, and disappears elsewhere and the whole world is so oblivious; and rightfully so. you gotta work to make it last, but sometimes one person cant save a sinking ship-especially if that ship is the titanic, cos you cant turn back time, cos you cant relive past joys and happiness, you can only look back at the mementos of the time and immerse yourself in memories and shadows of an existence completely free from sorrow - but obviously, nothing lasts. just when you think you got it all right, just when you think lifes one step away from perfection - it all comes crashing down again, and sometimes in most dramatic fashion.
consider the purpose of life, and its strange nature. our lives are all interconnected, everything has to happen for a reason, because some everything is driven by reason - and still i contest that, because reason is not the main prerequisite for anything to exist, we all live, and we die, and thats it. the end. life is finite, and life should be pure and free and life should not be a prententious facade, because in life, fewer things bring more joy than music, or love and so on and so forth. consider the part in 'i,robot' when it was mentioned that robots, although non sentient prefered to stand together than to stand alone; and its true, its so damn true, noone wants to stand alone, and then again everybody needs a person, one person to confide in, to do everything and anything with - everybody needs a person, and -
what do i care. why do i write? questions questioned, answers unspoken, everything happens - but its the waiting that hurts the most, after knowing what life coulda been life, and what woulda been yours, and finally being able to express yourself in a new way, finally being a person, an individual- finally everything.
im so bored; nobody ever came up to the impossibly high standards you left me with.
throw your dark cloak on me o scourge of the night, that i may pass unnoticed from this world and this life, for this world was not meant for me.
shine down on me o great ball of fire, for i spread my arms and surrender my soul to thee.hurt me the most, o object of all desire, for today, we sing a song of cold black water on breezy moonlit nights, because for these few moments before passing, we will have peace -
yes,
you and i
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
- 3:59 pm
dreams are made of everything
and when everything i show you
is a piece of my death
release me from the relentless
unending chase of a dream
a dream of a memory of what was
and a hope for what never will be
in eyes haunted by the spectre of loss
denying entry;
remembrance;
reminiscence;
cold crush.
i hate you. and you. take my spirit and break it; crush me like glass and realise that we were wrong; this is the end.
death take us 'pon swift wings
most unfortunate of the lot
the last of the few that were
living quick living fast
infused with the taste
of hoping it could last
one vision in a multicoloured soliloquy,
the silent dream;
the endless mime,
i give you my spirit.
nightmare in monochromatics.
fin twin one
sung to the tune of 12:51 by the strokes
tell the world you dont know me,
im just sayin im sorry,
please we taken this too far,
you and me we knows what we are
dont be leavin,
us right here,
if ya gotta go,
please keep near
i told the world i's sorry,
they told me nots to go worry,
the two of us we're so fast,
never thought we just wouldnt last
the end is comin,
and i dont care,
the ends a place,
so take me there
today
i told the world dont miss me,
they tells me im bein insane,
cos up she came and straight kissed me,
and now we's back,
back together again
fin twin two
Thursday, February 10, 2005
- 9:12 pm
time passing by,
black lace against soft skin;
memories velvet satin to the touch,
with sharp edges.
-akesh-
when psychosomasis is the only way forward,
and the truth is damning.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
- 10:41 pm
green flash; chocolate surroundings,
hot cold sexy atmosphere
calm chill descent pon the self;
thoughts; memories of how,
you blushed, what a rush,
reminisce,
cold crush.
starbucks. and every detail of every memory is still freshly preserved in the tables; in the chairs where a person once sat, where i once waited. waiting, forever, for the nothing in particular which means everything at once. waiting and thinking about all my unpublished posts; and deleting each and every one with the exception of the first one. memories, thoughts, feelings killed with each fresh second.
i sit and watch people walk past the windows of my little niche in a corner of starbucks; with no particular aim; some projecting an image that doesnt really exist, some too absorbed in their own little worlds to know or realise anything of how some people relinquish memories too quickly; and some people keep them to death. of how some people live their memories like a dream, too far away to touch; but leading on all the same.
are we the waiting
and we all need to express though some of you decide to suppress, or some of you encourage and then take away before the bloom of the flower. is it all some fault of mine? because if it is i wholly accept responsibility, for the fact that i dont know why everything is disappearing, why everything and everyone is going away and anything that ever mattered is dying - its all dying its all going; and father, if i have wronged - surely thou hast punished me enough? please. please, stop this. men arent the masters of their own fate; only the mindless mechanical are - not the thinking feeling people - and i wont suppress emotion, for whilst some may see it as weakness - oh fuck it, you can all see it for what you want, i understand it, and i am absolved from sin because i am born anew and i have come across realisation of old truths a long time ago, and he was right, frost was, nothing gold can stay. but somethings can. some things do stay forever, till you die, and even then memories live forever in the matter of the universe, and like they say - love never dies, because it forms a part of the life force on this living planet of ours till were so entangled in its forms we dont know what to do, an end up trying to suppress and downplay it - for if you realised that nothing - no, there is nothing now. how could there be -
but really.
how things have changed - again.
whither dost thou travel?
for the wind is cold and biting, wouldst thou rather not gather round the fire and bask in its warmth? for the path is long and wearisome, and the roads are haunted by wolves and bandits.
they walked along quite quietly wondering where they were going, not quite sure, but with a small amount of certainty that they were going the right way...and then the sun rose. they could see again.
ive been wrong again and again, and the way things change wreck everything - everything, nothing escapes the inevitable change brought about by emotion and mood because it quite essentially changes who i am - and i fear none have the patience to ride it out.
heres my ticket mr collector man,
now come claim my life.
this particular post was hand written some hours ago, on a wad of fullscap bearing my name, and here i write it out fully, although two pages have been burnt and will never be heard of again due to the nature of their content.
and the sweet silver song of a lark
all i get from you are
and some things are better left unsaid. teen angst is a load of non existent crap, its just the worlds way of saying that teenagers are naturally angry and emotional, when in truth its the way were being raised, the environment, this sweet example of continuous variation.
i couldnt sleep last night, it was too hot, so i got up and wrote to sleep and eventually, the dreams came, and i feared wakefulness because dreams are, in truth, our hopes and fears (thank you keane!) of a person and wakefulness is too harsh, too jarringly different from the sweet surreal reality of your mind to the plain old staten of consciousness when you realise everythings wrong, everythings a mess, its all wrecked up, and only you can save yourself instead of standing there lowing piteously like a dying cow. and we can save ourselves through the banishment of certain emotions from the mind during some hours of the day, because otherwise itll all come back, itll all come pouring down like rain hearken to the thirsty ground (wouldka look at that-it rhymes! lets all dance about in fits of glee now) and here as i lie on bed writing, i feel it all returning to i shall proceed at length to provide suitable discourse on another topic of a more pleasant variety, brownies procured by the Valhalla Cooking Maiden herself, Ramya Vodka Jaidev.
and then again i should halt here, for why should i go on about Ramyas sinfully delightful brownies when the only result of such a discourse would cause anybody reading to die lusting after the multilayered chocolate goodness of Ramyas Divine Worshippable Brownies whose creator has left singapore for a long time to come, and so plunged us into a deep state of despair, devastation and withdrawal syptoms galore, although it is hard to imagine things getting worse than they already are; but sometimes i surprise myself, a passage sure to open up untrodden mental paths to be taken although it is consolatory to note that they veer away from suicide, im not suicidal, this life is mine to live.
its my fault the way things are now, after all, who else can you blame for the state of your own mind. i have told most of it in full to hulin, and it takes away some of the weight, whilst the rest shall be borne. in fact, weight is the wrong expression, ya know when your mind feels dense and your chest, heavy? perhaps creative expression is the best form of alleviation, although i remain barred from my remaining passion of drama, kept away from the thrill which doth reveal itself as my driving force. and another form of passion which always, ultimately brings with it sorrow, hurt and grief, a price too high to pay for too long, but worth every second of it.
please, please, please, dont rain,
and although were loth to do so; come back.
let the skies hold back today,
let this storm end,
i want to see the golden sky.
what has branded us deservant of such sufferances, to live conformist zombie like lives devoid of most joy, since what little there is escapes our grasp, slips through fingers like water from a man dying of thirst, and once again we are steeped in a world of sorrow, and the light fades from the stars, and the star, it is gone, so what do you look up to at night?
and youll never walk alone
liar.
forgive me father for being an unbeliever, anything you ever gave me to believe in, you took away.
[my mother my dog and clowns]
tells the story of a boy trying to find his inner soul in dealing with reality and surreality, his life, and here i place the last paragraph of the last play for the year.
the main character goes by no name, and i shall use ***** to represent him.
it is mainly a monologue, with another 4 actors playing all the side characters.
*****: for now that mine purpose is discovered, what future is there for me? for i have been through sorrow and pain and suffered such ravages as the broken shards of my soul can endure. (lights dim) What lies ahead? Pray tell for now i understand the meaning of my existence, and that meaning is to love, to live and let die. i will move on, devoid of it, and so maintain a facade of inhumanity to fade away into obscurity. for i understand that there is a fine line in the complex web of life entailing and connecting love and death, and the latter is beginning to cast its charms about the empty chasm that hath opened itself up upon my chest, to a torn place which used to be so rich and full of emotion....but it matters not now. the blood, it doth trickle slowly down these wrists (lights dim to near black out, NESSUN DORMA plays), and the light, it is fading. I have outlived my worth, and proved nothing in a lonely world, except that I am as lonely as the world, and have let it all come crashing down; it was my fault, i was never strong enough. my hours spent are gone, it is but failure in clever guise, for emotion was allowed to rule my life, and i experienced devotion to a cause not mine, but to a greater cause, to a person - not this individual self, though i regret it not, it was such folly to tie myself down, and i was.....wrong. Death claim me, for i can never be understood now, i am the chosen one, and now he comes to claim me. (rising crescendo, light blasts brilliantly to stun the audience as ***** raises arms up 90 degrees, and collapses to a snap blackout after shouting 'all is lost!') in the dark of the blackout, a voice calls out saying thou art mine and ***** says i am but mine own
the curtains close, followed by the curtain call, as nessun dorma ends.
forgive me
Monday, February 07, 2005
- 10:56 pm
today i gave the most emotional third opp speaker speech of my life; and the stand? this house believes that the arts should not be publicly funded. aww cmon, im a dramatist.
its been a rough night.
and the stars look very different today
- 7:00 am
1437 on a hot sunday afternoon;
hoping things will stay this way;
shoes drying on the outside;
gonna play soccer today
its sunday; friday and saturday flashed in a blur of activity and the syndrome once refered to as rameshs' panathea. saturday was long; and coincidentally it was also yesterday.
debates in the morning, we lost to ACJC but beat Millenia Institute (Bartley) after a pathetic performance on both sides. as one of the coaches, i was disappointed with the result but glad that we got a top six placing for a team consisting mainly of first timers although several times throughout the debates i felt like smacking my head and cursing loudly. after that i went back by mrt with namita and priyanka; went home changed out and played soccer (SIX people came. what the hell.) taking shots from set pieces etc. something strange happened though.
i had passed the ball to colin who was running up; all of a sudden colin hits the ball, but it bounces against a root and flies up into uncles face. his turban flies off and turns out his glasses are broken and theres a small cut on his nose; at which point i race up to get a cold drink at james request for the cut. uncle leaves, and at that point so do the rest of us. walking up to brookvale condominiums to amrits house for his surprise party. along the way however, i see this broken road sign (you know the one telling you theres a bend up ahead) so i pick up the bloody twenty kilo thing and walk like one bloody klick to amrits house where we all sign the sign (ha!) and on the back fill in the W.I.N.S.T.O.N (we indians never salute to other nations) Beer Party This Way with the names of all the Winston members (akesh, krinesh, jamal, amrit, arya, that indian girl and colin got added as an honourary indian together with roy) and since lily complained so much we added another section for non-indian wannabes and put lily and graces' names there. never before have so many people wanted to be indian (surprise surprise). so we go down and when amrit comes down- we all shout and he gets the shock of his life haha as we all wish him; and i hug him and tell him to go and die after his mom asked why noone was hugging him and wishing him. amrits sister (who looks like a brother (not arya!)) is a huge pain in the arse; and looks like an arse too. anyway i leave with colin and jamal as we walk home like drunk indians. the wine had a rich aroma, but was woody with a lingering acidic aftertaste.
disorder, disorder
it might be afternoon, but already i feel so tired. life is slowing down and speeding up erratically, jumping from place to place and theres nothing or noone to fill in the blank spaces in between, or to go to. theres nothing worth anything here anymore. i dont know.
this whole post sucks. ill give you all something more poetic some other time.
somewhere between silence and cold
Saturday, February 05, 2005
- 3:00 pm
its friday; and im dead on both fronts.
Can you see me
Floating above your head
As you lay in bed
Thinking about everything
That you did not do
Cause saying I love you
Has nothing to do with meaning it
And I don't trust you
Cause every time you're here
Your intentions are unclear
I spend every hour waiting for a phone call
That I know will never come
I used to think you were the one
Now I'm sick of thinking anything at all
You ain't ever coming back to me
That's not how things were supposed to be
You take my hand just to give it back
No other lover has ever done that
Do you remember
The way we used to melt
Do you remember how it felt
When I touched you
Oh cause I remember very well
And how long has it been
Since someone let you in
Has given what I gave to you
And at night when you sleep
Do you dream I would be there
Just for a minute or two do you?
You ain't ever coming back to me
That's not how things were supposed to be
You take my hand just to give it back
No other lover has ever done that
Heartache heartache I just have so much
A simple love with a complex touch
There is nothing you can say or do
I called to let you know I'm through with you
we all fall down
Friday, February 04, 2005
- 3:10 pm
every day grows longer; and lessens in meaning; the term 'golden day' is a thing of the past destined to stay that way for time to come; golden days that were days of production; and days of seduction.
do you remember how it used to be?
today skool ended late; what with debates and then going for a haircut; singing xi li chou by jay chou in front of a full lecture theatre; to coaching the debating team and wondering when some meaning will venture forth from the wilderness of earth and back into my life. tomorrow in any case is the stupid ICS orientation, and on saturday the debate compy at NYJC; there is no production for the first three months, and i plunge myself so wholeheartedly into all these events such that the unvented emotional directional can be kept aside; forgotten for now until it can be used for a different production.
the stage is my life; and my life, an act
further emboldened by the beauty of this empty space, i write, my thoughts transmitted through my hands onto this blank sheet of papers; scrolling ever onwards towards the bottom of the page in the midst of this dark night; the champagne atmosphere convival in a different sense to me; in a subtler fashion.
the surrounding night is dark velvet; i am outside, writing. a cooling breeze wafts about the air; bringing with it the freshness of night, and the aroma of the leaves still wet from the earlier drizzle. the wind blows slightly harder; and the leaves rustle; but that is the full extent of the only disturbance of the night. and i close my eyes; i listen; i feel; i emote and i let it all out to the night, something only the moon could ever begin to understand, a cosmic release of energy to the stars. the trees nod their leafy canopies in quietly lugubrious accompaniment.
i am by myself, alone.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
- 10:31 pm
i can sing.
fin