and I thought I could rest after that episode. Good thing they're not shit, or else, I would be the sacrificial goat of humiliation. Funny how in a way, I'm representing the voice of the goats, as believed by my friends, and I'm a cannibal.
Last night was pretty good though, despite having endured (some) long poetry. I have a problem in following a long line and I hate it when a poem gets draggy, since the anticipation of getting lost is imminent. And to make fun of things even without any intention of causing harm. Like when they give books as the prize, I shrugged thinking nice pastries and teas would be nicer, jokingly. Though, pastries and teas are quite appropriate for such occasion, just to keep me focus. Selfish bastard.
You Dear
"I regret to inform you that in a very competitive field your
scholarship application has been unsuccessful."
I wonder if they mean it as they compose these very harsh statement. Considering their regret, I can, with fair composure, conclude such genuine trait may not establish their intention.
Ironically, I had planned to write this on Tuesday, the day I assumed to be the break. However, my heart was heavy as I thought about the manner to which my reaction to either positive or negative (now we know it's negative) email should follow. Subsequently allowing myself to log into my email account, which is irrelevant on normal occasion (since I only open my emails once in a day, and I had done it earlier).
You can call it god's way of manifesting His words in my mind, I'll call it a weird coincidence. Mother saw my reaction and screamed at me. Oblivious to the motive behind my application, she continued to demise me. Churned my strength and spat it out. It would be easy if I just told her I do all this to emulate her but swallowing the high pitch noise is much easier at this point.
I just hope she will one day, erase her reasoning behind my action and allow me to do things secretly. Just so I could enjoy or drain my tears at my own comfort.
scholarship application has been unsuccessful."
I wonder if they mean it as they compose these very harsh statement. Considering their regret, I can, with fair composure, conclude such genuine trait may not establish their intention.
Ironically, I had planned to write this on Tuesday, the day I assumed to be the break. However, my heart was heavy as I thought about the manner to which my reaction to either positive or negative (now we know it's negative) email should follow. Subsequently allowing myself to log into my email account, which is irrelevant on normal occasion (since I only open my emails once in a day, and I had done it earlier).
You can call it god's way of manifesting His words in my mind, I'll call it a weird coincidence. Mother saw my reaction and screamed at me. Oblivious to the motive behind my application, she continued to demise me. Churned my strength and spat it out. It would be easy if I just told her I do all this to emulate her but swallowing the high pitch noise is much easier at this point.
I just hope she will one day, erase her reasoning behind my action and allow me to do things secretly. Just so I could enjoy or drain my tears at my own comfort.
I Moth
Single rip to the cloth of the beat,
insinuate the senses I have never feel.
Calling for the ripple,
to send me back to you.
To where the warm blood soothes itself.
Travelling eyes wandering around,
in search for the longing fool.
Begging for another insight,
to leave the memories with you.
.......................
For the record (Hanna), me using a lot of "You's" is not a revelation. It's a mere substitution to a lifeless word. No reference to any person at all, since I'm not as stupid as people think, thus, in no way would I ever drag my words out of my vulnerable fragile-labelled self. If I would say something about anyone, there would be an interesting acronyms (since I'm good at it);p .
And,
a you-can-call-it clairvoyance or whatever they are, informed me, I should dumb myself down in front of others. As, my brain works in a different mechanism which points out every reason for me to not make others feel stupid. And he said, I have managed to achieve that discreetly. Therefore, to friends who potentially come across this, I'm genuinely sorry if I have ever, in any circumstances, made you feel stupid or anything associated with it. It's just that the trouble of conveying my thoughts to others is as rough as a sandpaper. Or because I'm a total idiot. I'm not going to do this personally since I'm a horrible person. :)
insinuate the senses I have never feel.
Calling for the ripple,
to send me back to you.
To where the warm blood soothes itself.
Travelling eyes wandering around,
in search for the longing fool.
Begging for another insight,
to leave the memories with you.
.......................
For the record (Hanna), me using a lot of "You's" is not a revelation. It's a mere substitution to a lifeless word. No reference to any person at all, since I'm not as stupid as people think, thus, in no way would I ever drag my words out of my vulnerable fragile-labelled self. If I would say something about anyone, there would be an interesting acronyms (since I'm good at it);p .
And,
a you-can-call-it clairvoyance or whatever they are, informed me, I should dumb myself down in front of others. As, my brain works in a different mechanism which points out every reason for me to not make others feel stupid. And he said, I have managed to achieve that discreetly. Therefore, to friends who potentially come across this, I'm genuinely sorry if I have ever, in any circumstances, made you feel stupid or anything associated with it. It's just that the trouble of conveying my thoughts to others is as rough as a sandpaper. Or because I'm a total idiot. I'm not going to do this personally since I'm a horrible person. :)
Chips or Poetry
Epic episode. One of the epic ones. There's another episode where there's a poll (obviously) asking what do the British public prefer, chips or poetry. Surprisingly, 80% prefer chips. I was thinking of the 20% of twats who answered poetry. I don't see people running around like mental when there's a short of poetry.
My mom has been complaining how I have been spending my break in room watching this type of show. Since she doesn't get why am I laughing like an idiot, I asked her to join me watching one of the episode. Evidently, being a mother, she doesn't laugh. At all. It's understandable because she's more interested in fat people moaning about their weight on Oprah. And she likes Oprah.
I'm not much of a funny person but that doesn't mean I should justify any hilarious idiotic remarks made. As we all agree, reference to the bottom bit of youtube annoys us while entertain us at the same time. It's fine if you don't think something is funny and you inform that to others, but love, don't bother explaining the reason behind it.
We get it, you're an idiot.
Obvious Contrast
Between mexican-clad boys and sounds of semi-toasted men. Can't wait to have kids who'll make fun of my music taste.
Sorry, I Don't Dance
and I can't.
To think that blood runs in me. The dancer carried me. Still, I can't dance.
I believe during the third month of carrying me, the dancer tries to infuse the system in me, an it fails. Hence, surrendering her frail body to the hospital. Contemplating on the outcome. Several months later, I exist. In not only the dancer's life, but everyone else's.
I do, at times, ponder, if the blood that was lost, is the one that carries the dancer's hope.
But, I know it's not it. I know I can dance. Without any lesson, I can straighten my arms and legs. And spin around while letting my one foot carrying the weight. With all these, I wonder, why I don't dance.
Tracing the defaults didn't save me any clue.
Though, it starts right after I lost my three friends. Not in a tragic picture, more like me leaving them to save a year in school. I do dance around with them. Celebrate days and try on others' shoes. For days we could laugh and spare only a minute for disgust. We could barely hate each other intensely.
After I left them, I start to lose interest in achievements. The little one that is. If before, I'm able to speak and act in front of a huge audience, I now can't. Once, I could shed tears and loosing the noose around my heart, I now can't.
I share everything with the three kids, but I now share emotions with the ghosts. It's much simpler and unabashed by letting the flies fly. Making excuses in seeing a moving object is easier for me now. I can escape the responsibilities in chasing others by creating a space for me and the ghosts around me. Building walls to protect them from others' hunger in winning the game of earning my being.
People deem this a paranoia and seclusion. I call it the non-existence of trust. I lost it when I left my three friends.
Mind you, I am happy. In the least amount needed. I can't replace the confidence I had in them. I can't make up a new scenarios to fit theirs. And, I can't pretend I see them in my current circles. But, that doesn't mean I can't live without them. I'm only singing these verses to exclude myself from disappointment. From others.
But, as of this, I understand losing them makes me a better person. In a way, I am not ashamed in writing letters to anonymous. I have always write to people I know, who doesn't know me. This would be a perfect instance. I write to a soul-less machine, just to make me feel better. And it does, without pushing for a consideration or an explanation.
If I did this to a human form, it would consume me times and bits of my brain, just to let them see and comprehend, far beyond these words.
And these are the conclusion to why I don't dance. Because I know no one will see me behind the routine. They'll only see Grace and Joy, which neither is myself.
Plus, if I still dance, I will'nt write and fantasize, and draw lifeless images.
To think that blood runs in me. The dancer carried me. Still, I can't dance.
I believe during the third month of carrying me, the dancer tries to infuse the system in me, an it fails. Hence, surrendering her frail body to the hospital. Contemplating on the outcome. Several months later, I exist. In not only the dancer's life, but everyone else's.
I do, at times, ponder, if the blood that was lost, is the one that carries the dancer's hope.
But, I know it's not it. I know I can dance. Without any lesson, I can straighten my arms and legs. And spin around while letting my one foot carrying the weight. With all these, I wonder, why I don't dance.
Tracing the defaults didn't save me any clue.
Though, it starts right after I lost my three friends. Not in a tragic picture, more like me leaving them to save a year in school. I do dance around with them. Celebrate days and try on others' shoes. For days we could laugh and spare only a minute for disgust. We could barely hate each other intensely.
After I left them, I start to lose interest in achievements. The little one that is. If before, I'm able to speak and act in front of a huge audience, I now can't. Once, I could shed tears and loosing the noose around my heart, I now can't.
I share everything with the three kids, but I now share emotions with the ghosts. It's much simpler and unabashed by letting the flies fly. Making excuses in seeing a moving object is easier for me now. I can escape the responsibilities in chasing others by creating a space for me and the ghosts around me. Building walls to protect them from others' hunger in winning the game of earning my being.
People deem this a paranoia and seclusion. I call it the non-existence of trust. I lost it when I left my three friends.
Mind you, I am happy. In the least amount needed. I can't replace the confidence I had in them. I can't make up a new scenarios to fit theirs. And, I can't pretend I see them in my current circles. But, that doesn't mean I can't live without them. I'm only singing these verses to exclude myself from disappointment. From others.
But, as of this, I understand losing them makes me a better person. In a way, I am not ashamed in writing letters to anonymous. I have always write to people I know, who doesn't know me. This would be a perfect instance. I write to a soul-less machine, just to make me feel better. And it does, without pushing for a consideration or an explanation.
If I did this to a human form, it would consume me times and bits of my brain, just to let them see and comprehend, far beyond these words.
And these are the conclusion to why I don't dance. Because I know no one will see me behind the routine. They'll only see Grace and Joy, which neither is myself.
Plus, if I still dance, I will'nt write and fantasize, and draw lifeless images.
Jimmy Clee-What?
Watched a documentary and bit of the Glastonbury Festival appeared. A man with a strong resemblance to Phil Jupitus started talking about the Festival, and his name was Jimmy Clee-something. I started laughing with thought the person got it wrong or he was pulling his finger on them. Well, all I know I was the one reading the name wrong.
And Carr's look a like was in my sleep. Fucking wreck.
And the bloke at the phone shop cheated me and quit the job.
Will the person who's been messing and planting curses in my life surrender him/herself to death. :(
And Carr's look a like was in my sleep. Fucking wreck.
And the bloke at the phone shop cheated me and quit the job.
Will the person who's been messing and planting curses in my life surrender him/herself to death. :(
Sea of Lines
: Oi, what's with the old bald man slapping the players' hands. Idiot.
: Eee, that's Prince William, idiot.
Didn't realize it is Prince Willy in the FA Cup's opening. He looks like a proper old man. With partially bald head and the frown face. To think Hanna and myself used to linger around Eton makes me sick. Least, was not waiting for the Nazi Boy.
Wants to grow old like Mr. and Mrs. Vogel over here. Except I don't want to be a librarian since I can't stand the monument.
4,000 pieces of art. They're either that driven in collecting pieces or a brilliant mastermind in robbing museums. I much prefer the latter inference since it would made me love them even more. I don't condone in the activity of robbery but to add such in the Vogels' life, is like a pepper to the nice hot soup.
Reading The Artists Magazine, after a whole lot of time forgetting and abandoning them, makes me miss sketching and paint again. I want to be similar to the entrants of 'over 60' competition, by re-living the moments which I had once enjoy being in. Have always admire oils and graphite but I just learn a new medium, which is amazingly produced with intricate details, scratchboard. I know it has been a while since people start to use it but it just hit me when I see the two artists pieces. Lovely.
: Eee, that's Prince William, idiot.
Didn't realize it is Prince Willy in the FA Cup's opening. He looks like a proper old man. With partially bald head and the frown face. To think Hanna and myself used to linger around Eton makes me sick. Least, was not waiting for the Nazi Boy.
Wants to grow old like Mr. and Mrs. Vogel over here. Except I don't want to be a librarian since I can't stand the monument.
4,000 pieces of art. They're either that driven in collecting pieces or a brilliant mastermind in robbing museums. I much prefer the latter inference since it would made me love them even more. I don't condone in the activity of robbery but to add such in the Vogels' life, is like a pepper to the nice hot soup.
Reading The Artists Magazine, after a whole lot of time forgetting and abandoning them, makes me miss sketching and paint again. I want to be similar to the entrants of 'over 60' competition, by re-living the moments which I had once enjoy being in. Have always admire oils and graphite but I just learn a new medium, which is amazingly produced with intricate details, scratchboard. I know it has been a while since people start to use it but it just hit me when I see the two artists pieces. Lovely.
Lazy and Safe
Fingers you've collected.
While roaming around.
Should be no use.
In dismantling this machine.
While roaming around.
Should be no use.
In dismantling this machine.
Twirling Eyes
Turbulent waves of indefinite feature. Sting the pulse. Initiating a combative reaction. To shield self from the sunken teeth on your flesh. To shield self from the mixture.
................
A little kid I know calls the rolling eyes, The twirling eyes. I am glad the kid is a girl. It's a scary thing to have jazzy boys.
It's nice being a year older now, since the power to make your treasures ancient now lies in your wrinkly hands. I much prefer in marking the age of things around me rather than people. I only remember my mother's age just to avoid being kick in the face for being a terrible daughter. Honestly, age doesn't play that important of a role in my eyes on others.
Ever since I was a lot younger (living in a pond with limited words), I have always dwell myself in a non-living concept of life. I have friends but it only come in force when my imaginative monk decides to take a break. I was always curious and asking question which to my mother, is one that deliberately pushing her patience to the limit. As until now, it carries on.
Nothing bad, I reckon, could come from this ionized corrugated iron up in the head. Though, it bothers me when nobody else could sit through a conversation on history and those silly stuffs, and everything else in between.
I hate to think of myself as a nerd due to my preferences in subjects, since nerds are people who know things and are amazing at annoying others with their knowledge and exceptionally irritable while shoving their intelligence on others faces (for instance: Rory McGrath on QI).
I hope I am nowhere near that state since that would eat me alive. Generally, I don't share things I know, without being in the occasion where there is a reliance on such. Randomly dropping facts is particularly, a shitty thing to do. Well, literally, considering birds do the same thing. No wonder I have such disgust on those losers flapping their wings to prove to us they're better. Fucking turd.
................
A little kid I know calls the rolling eyes, The twirling eyes. I am glad the kid is a girl. It's a scary thing to have jazzy boys.
It's nice being a year older now, since the power to make your treasures ancient now lies in your wrinkly hands. I much prefer in marking the age of things around me rather than people. I only remember my mother's age just to avoid being kick in the face for being a terrible daughter. Honestly, age doesn't play that important of a role in my eyes on others.
Ever since I was a lot younger (living in a pond with limited words), I have always dwell myself in a non-living concept of life. I have friends but it only come in force when my imaginative monk decides to take a break. I was always curious and asking question which to my mother, is one that deliberately pushing her patience to the limit. As until now, it carries on.
Nothing bad, I reckon, could come from this ionized corrugated iron up in the head. Though, it bothers me when nobody else could sit through a conversation on history and those silly stuffs, and everything else in between.
I hate to think of myself as a nerd due to my preferences in subjects, since nerds are people who know things and are amazing at annoying others with their knowledge and exceptionally irritable while shoving their intelligence on others faces (for instance: Rory McGrath on QI).
I hope I am nowhere near that state since that would eat me alive. Generally, I don't share things I know, without being in the occasion where there is a reliance on such. Randomly dropping facts is particularly, a shitty thing to do. Well, literally, considering birds do the same thing. No wonder I have such disgust on those losers flapping their wings to prove to us they're better. Fucking turd.
Congratuwelldone!
Yes, I'm going to bring it back to my dictionary despite none of my friends acknowledge the phrase. It's almost like when no one gets it when you tell them It's Chico Time when they ask you on the clock.
And after two weeks of an extensive eyes and fingers workout, I deserve a congratuwelldone for my own self.
And a marathon of all the things I've missed. To be with neglected Bassie.
I enjoy Jimmy Carr even with the weird sound coming from him everytime he laughs. Epic.
And after two weeks of an extensive eyes and fingers workout, I deserve a congratuwelldone for my own self.
And a marathon of all the things I've missed. To be with neglected Bassie.
I enjoy Jimmy Carr even with the weird sound coming from him everytime he laughs. Epic.
Plus One
1.
Uh huh.
Commentator: 'the lack of tackles from Liverpool show that they are happy to sit back and just attack on the break'.
I think a kid with down syndrome could make more sense.
2.
Wow these commentators really don't like Liverpool
3.
love this commentator.
2 minutes in: 'Liverpool have done nothing so far which deserves two corners'.
As if that makes any remote sense.
4.
"Must of done it [injury] from one of his two touches"
Seriously GTFO you pathetic excuse for a human being, you're doing my head in.
5.
'He does kick himself. but I can't believe it isn't a penalty.'
6.
Ah well, just typical of Stevie from this season.
Lazy and wasteful.
But it's only Lucas who passes backwards and costs us goals so it's okay.
7.
I want us to win still, but if Chelsea win because of that Gerrard pass, I just can't wait to hear Ferguson
8.
It's literally like Drogba waits all season for the Liverpool game before he starts diving around like a twat. He hasn't dived at all this season, until now.
9.
Lol, the commentators even making up statistics:
'Gerrard has 1 in 29 against Chelsea.'
and
10.
Lol at United fans practically blaming us for them not winning the title. You lost the title yourself.
I slept during the first half of the game. Guess my conscience didn't want me to witness the Stevie Effect. I've noticed some of the commentators have been quite bias and daft in blasting Liverpool in every game. Seriously if you can't stand them don't bother commenting on the game. Must've been a retarded United fan with a lacrosse players' ball. I know that one fat bald guy being a twat and unprofessional in every Liverpool match. Cow.
It's good there's footylounge, for me to prove to my mother am not the only one who hates United. Half of the board (beside the United fans) hate them, so go figure.
Just today Ferguson has shown us the pathetic side of him, kicking himself in the nut while blaming Stevie for their loss. Poo
Uh huh.
Commentator: 'the lack of tackles from Liverpool show that they are happy to sit back and just attack on the break'.
I think a kid with down syndrome could make more sense.
2.
Wow these commentators really don't like Liverpool
3.
love this commentator.
2 minutes in: 'Liverpool have done nothing so far which deserves two corners'.
As if that makes any remote sense.
4.
"Must of done it [injury] from one of his two touches"
Seriously GTFO you pathetic excuse for a human being, you're doing my head in.
5.
'He does kick himself. but I can't believe it isn't a penalty.'
6.
Ah well, just typical of Stevie from this season.
Lazy and wasteful.
But it's only Lucas who passes backwards and costs us goals so it's okay.
7.
I want us to win still, but if Chelsea win because of that Gerrard pass, I just can't wait to hear Ferguson
8.
It's literally like Drogba waits all season for the Liverpool game before he starts diving around like a twat. He hasn't dived at all this season, until now.
9.
Lol, the commentators even making up statistics:
'Gerrard has 1 in 29 against Chelsea.'
and
10.
Lol at United fans practically blaming us for them not winning the title. You lost the title yourself.
I slept during the first half of the game. Guess my conscience didn't want me to witness the Stevie Effect. I've noticed some of the commentators have been quite bias and daft in blasting Liverpool in every game. Seriously if you can't stand them don't bother commenting on the game. Must've been a retarded United fan with a lacrosse players' ball. I know that one fat bald guy being a twat and unprofessional in every Liverpool match. Cow.
It's good there's footylounge, for me to prove to my mother am not the only one who hates United. Half of the board (beside the United fans) hate them, so go figure.
Just today Ferguson has shown us the pathetic side of him, kicking himself in the nut while blaming Stevie for their loss. Poo
In 10 Years Time
I would like to sketch a portrait of my teenage self as a nonsensical, slightly peculiar and not much of an intelligence built sod, of a person. At this age, I am quite sceptical in going through the winding road of achievements and climbing the social ladder.
To begin with, I don't even believe in the latter creation as everybody knows once you're on top of any given circumstances, the person(s) below you will start a regime in toppling you. This = no relevance in life's autonomy.
Thus, the notion of completing the cycle of achievement at this age is as funny to me as learning vegetarians believe we shouldn't consume animals flesh as they are created to roam around this planet as much as we are promoted to commit to that lifestyle. I would bet that these people aren't as religious as they believed since they had missed out on few chapters of the holy book. But, I am no where near the greatness of creature so I would love to leave the subject of religion behind in being an opinionated fuck.
To be in peers where all have subscribed to the concept of completing eternal stretch of goals has placed me in a position where I would be happy just watching Strange but True episodes. It's almost as if the society has prescribed a new curriculum where the young should very well accommodate themselves with grand details of their future self.
Everyone now has something up in their minds in putting together the puzzles they had dreamed of as a child. I failed in adjusting to this subject as my goal in life is to be happy and it applies in all areas of my life, well generally. And,this is to be the least in the normal expectation of others and they're aren't happy with me. Except my own mother, of course.
Thus, in asking myself whether I am acting as an insolent child is irrelevant since I feel that I am doing quite well in making myself visible to reasonable people. To be a highlight in your society is not in my current or past, and hopefully future agenda. And, I am not interested in being a pastel to everyone else.
To begin with, I don't even believe in the latter creation as everybody knows once you're on top of any given circumstances, the person(s) below you will start a regime in toppling you. This = no relevance in life's autonomy.
Thus, the notion of completing the cycle of achievement at this age is as funny to me as learning vegetarians believe we shouldn't consume animals flesh as they are created to roam around this planet as much as we are promoted to commit to that lifestyle. I would bet that these people aren't as religious as they believed since they had missed out on few chapters of the holy book. But, I am no where near the greatness of creature so I would love to leave the subject of religion behind in being an opinionated fuck.
To be in peers where all have subscribed to the concept of completing eternal stretch of goals has placed me in a position where I would be happy just watching Strange but True episodes. It's almost as if the society has prescribed a new curriculum where the young should very well accommodate themselves with grand details of their future self.
Everyone now has something up in their minds in putting together the puzzles they had dreamed of as a child. I failed in adjusting to this subject as my goal in life is to be happy and it applies in all areas of my life, well generally. And,this is to be the least in the normal expectation of others and they're aren't happy with me. Except my own mother, of course.
Thus, in asking myself whether I am acting as an insolent child is irrelevant since I feel that I am doing quite well in making myself visible to reasonable people. To be a highlight in your society is not in my current or past, and hopefully future agenda. And, I am not interested in being a pastel to everyone else.
Oi, History Channel
"You're trapped in a labyrinth of Minotaur, and there's no way out"
Yes, thank you in providing a solid reason to have a nightmare. Though to think of it, Greek Mythology is of brutality and macabre nature, which points out the awkward greatness of one who built such myths.
Kudos to the likes of Narnia that made ancient mythical creatures a bunch of friendly beasts. It's similar to lying to children on such existence of a fat man with towers of gifts. Well, there is such man, except he doesn't come in to your house to drop a gift and devour the food on the table. Beast.
Yes, thank you in providing a solid reason to have a nightmare. Though to think of it, Greek Mythology is of brutality and macabre nature, which points out the awkward greatness of one who built such myths.
Kudos to the likes of Narnia that made ancient mythical creatures a bunch of friendly beasts. It's similar to lying to children on such existence of a fat man with towers of gifts. Well, there is such man, except he doesn't come in to your house to drop a gift and devour the food on the table. Beast.
99
I like you better off without the head. As I may have escaped the ponds, and the tricky cross-over. Misguided by your handy charms and troubled by the mirrored lies. That were doused by my own engineered carousel. Of rotating fears.
....................
I swear I thought the username was your witty way of portraying yourself as an arse. But then it was actually a way of an insignificant symbolic clan to showcase their geeky-ness. Or together-ness. Awww
A: Let me play it now. It's my turn for tetris.
B: There's no turn in tetris!
A: And there's no 'I' in tetris!
B: Yeah there is.
Am good at ruining things like that. Just like the time a friend tried to pull the knock-knock joke on me. Sad.
....................
I swear I thought the username was your witty way of portraying yourself as an arse. But then it was actually a way of an insignificant symbolic clan to showcase their geeky-ness. Or together-ness. Awww
A: Let me play it now. It's my turn for tetris.
B: There's no turn in tetris!
A: And there's no 'I' in tetris!
B: Yeah there is.
Am good at ruining things like that. Just like the time a friend tried to pull the knock-knock joke on me. Sad.
Thumbs Off
"If I have more than two finger thumbs, I would give it to you"
Exactly what I said when a random (apparently) new musician asked for a thought on his/her music, since I had supported them on Jango. I believe that was the miracle of random clicking on his/her part because he/she has gotten more support, thanks to my mindless virtual nods of approvals. I did not even knew on the fact jango has a system of messages and friends request to begin with, thus, the empire of weird statements and human began to appear before me. Not so delightful as half of the faces in the box were fooled by my younger looking self hiding in the picture. Two of them actually gave away their phone numbers which was a bit appalling as I had to learn the default of today's' entities via internet. Nevertheless, it is, in a sort of twisted way, pleasing to see, virtually, on how much in common I have with old people.
I was not enthused when a question of 'Dave Gahan or Brett Anderson' was directed to me. Considering I do not know the answer to it. As subjective as it may be, it was unimportant. The only outcome would either be a debate on why I am wrong or an exchange of how much one of them is much cooler than the other, which was something I have no desire in pondering upon. It is like asking 'If you could revive any of your dead pet, which one would it be?'. The chances of being haunted by those of in my belief unworthy of a new chance to live = uncool.
Though, I have indulged in the love for Mr. Carr's look-a-like. Was not love as in love, more of a love as in like. To see how much my hatred had turned into 'liking' is quite amazing. Never would I thought he was more than an un-interesting lad with a sheer sense of words. And to know the length he went to earn an opinion showed he was more than what I believed he was. In a way, similar, to my own little self, eventhough I had failed in attaining any opinion at all.
Nevertheless, to a friend who hates my guts in enjoying nerdy matters, I am now in joy to inform you, I now have a new mission. Which is to travel to monasteries in search of an answer to a question, Why do people actually bother in spending the rest of their life in the spiritual laced glass house.
Mind you, I do believe in higher being, I just do not believe in setting aside the creations to be closer. And to see whether any of the Lama has an actual connection with the Khans. Here I come Dharamsala! And no, eastern religions are not funny, they are just, inquisitive. But that applies to all religion, or life.
Exactly what I said when a random (apparently) new musician asked for a thought on his/her music, since I had supported them on Jango. I believe that was the miracle of random clicking on his/her part because he/she has gotten more support, thanks to my mindless virtual nods of approvals. I did not even knew on the fact jango has a system of messages and friends request to begin with, thus, the empire of weird statements and human began to appear before me. Not so delightful as half of the faces in the box were fooled by my younger looking self hiding in the picture. Two of them actually gave away their phone numbers which was a bit appalling as I had to learn the default of today's' entities via internet. Nevertheless, it is, in a sort of twisted way, pleasing to see, virtually, on how much in common I have with old people.
I was not enthused when a question of 'Dave Gahan or Brett Anderson' was directed to me. Considering I do not know the answer to it. As subjective as it may be, it was unimportant. The only outcome would either be a debate on why I am wrong or an exchange of how much one of them is much cooler than the other, which was something I have no desire in pondering upon. It is like asking 'If you could revive any of your dead pet, which one would it be?'. The chances of being haunted by those of in my belief unworthy of a new chance to live = uncool.
Though, I have indulged in the love for Mr. Carr's look-a-like. Was not love as in love, more of a love as in like. To see how much my hatred had turned into 'liking' is quite amazing. Never would I thought he was more than an un-interesting lad with a sheer sense of words. And to know the length he went to earn an opinion showed he was more than what I believed he was. In a way, similar, to my own little self, eventhough I had failed in attaining any opinion at all.
Nevertheless, to a friend who hates my guts in enjoying nerdy matters, I am now in joy to inform you, I now have a new mission. Which is to travel to monasteries in search of an answer to a question, Why do people actually bother in spending the rest of their life in the spiritual laced glass house.
Mind you, I do believe in higher being, I just do not believe in setting aside the creations to be closer. And to see whether any of the Lama has an actual connection with the Khans. Here I come Dharamsala! And no, eastern religions are not funny, they are just, inquisitive. But that applies to all religion, or life.
The Mushrooms' Trip
Lets watch the Manson documentary and identify which of the girls actually look evil.
A Skosh of Tint.
I could very well feel unadjusted now, since the young ones are much more privileged that they supposed to be. Having your younger friends to instantly own their own cars before you is not much of an underlining concept of life, considering I am still struggling in paying off the debt to my own mother. Damn children with good grades who trade it with wealth.
And to ponder on the vision of me constantly subject myself to contradiction. There's good excuse to it though.
Plus, the Jimmy Carr look-a-like is much better than I expected. Cleverly funny, nerdy in ways I could healthily digest and is in the midst of paying off debts. Total fit, eh?
........
Youtubeperson: Why do people feel the need to label people, such as hipsters?
Yeah, and I don't know what the last one means even by countless numbers of explanation by a friend. To think of it, should I know the meaning?
I love youtube for the interesting bit down the video section. Bless the people who commented.
And to ponder on the vision of me constantly subject myself to contradiction. There's good excuse to it though.
Plus, the Jimmy Carr look-a-like is much better than I expected. Cleverly funny, nerdy in ways I could healthily digest and is in the midst of paying off debts. Total fit, eh?
........
Youtubeperson: Why do people feel the need to label people, such as hipsters?
Yeah, and I don't know what the last one means even by countless numbers of explanation by a friend. To think of it, should I know the meaning?
I love youtube for the interesting bit down the video section. Bless the people who commented.
Nerdiest Move
I have seen. Okay cover of the Blitz though. Not that I fancy them.
But
I do enjoy this
He doesn't sound as annoying as their other songs. Kudos nerd.
Missing Roads
Even in nightmares I am terrified of losing to boys in running. That is when the sneaky kid comes in and indulge in dirty tricks.
A sad note is, I can't join track next semester since it clashes with a class. Damn you Equity. A friend wants me to join cricket as he thinks that will serves me right due to my constant bashing-bash on the whole crickety-match. Well, who would call a sort of sport cricket. Makes sense because the game is laced with crickets' sounds. Though it would be good if I take up cricket, so I can bash people with intelligence and knowledge in the field. Haa worst plan.
"You have nice knuckles"
My mom hates listening to this kind of compliment. It is good for me since It is that much easier in punching others. Sadly I have not use that jolly skill for a while now. Fighting is almost like a kiddies thing. You know, for instance the WWE (previously WWF, knobs), kids enjoy it but once they grow older they realized it is as made up as Paedophile Barney. For the old creature who is still watching it, there is nothing I can help you out on.
I would want to believe I am a lot older and less-kiddies now. Okay, so that explains why we do not punch and kick others anymore. We, do it in a completely different approach, like beating them in poker or CS (yeah!). Fighting is like Best-Friends thingy. It only work on children (as Chumlie says). Almost there grown ups spend their days eating good chocolates and playing games. It is how life works. Sorry kids.
In the meantime, I need to plan the strategy in convincing my mom to allow me in joining the CS team.
Camper over sniper? I miss the stupid 'PWNED' shit written all over you if you lose. Damn you monkeys.
A sad note is, I can't join track next semester since it clashes with a class. Damn you Equity. A friend wants me to join cricket as he thinks that will serves me right due to my constant bashing-bash on the whole crickety-match. Well, who would call a sort of sport cricket. Makes sense because the game is laced with crickets' sounds. Though it would be good if I take up cricket, so I can bash people with intelligence and knowledge in the field. Haa worst plan.
"You have nice knuckles"
My mom hates listening to this kind of compliment. It is good for me since It is that much easier in punching others. Sadly I have not use that jolly skill for a while now. Fighting is almost like a kiddies thing. You know, for instance the WWE (previously WWF, knobs), kids enjoy it but once they grow older they realized it is as made up as Paedophile Barney. For the old creature who is still watching it, there is nothing I can help you out on.
I would want to believe I am a lot older and less-kiddies now. Okay, so that explains why we do not punch and kick others anymore. We, do it in a completely different approach, like beating them in poker or CS (yeah!). Fighting is like Best-Friends thingy. It only work on children (as Chumlie says). Almost there grown ups spend their days eating good chocolates and playing games. It is how life works. Sorry kids.
In the meantime, I need to plan the strategy in convincing my mom to allow me in joining the CS team.
Camper over sniper? I miss the stupid 'PWNED' shit written all over you if you lose. Damn you monkeys.
No Luck Can Sweat Me
Generally, I am not much of a lucky being, unfortunately. It is almost as if it had run in the family genes. My mother and I, and probably the brother, never really win anything. Even when it comes to the lucky draw where everyone will get something, there will be an unlucky touch to it, getting the worst gift or it is broken. The same with the q&a on people where you would be all giddy waiting for YOUR question to be answered. Recently, my awesome (not so) question is neglected after losing to the idiotic ones.
Though a pity goes to a friend of mine who actually thinks hard in asking a witty slash clever question. Unlike me, the pain of being beaten by 'Will you marry me' and 'cats or dogs' is that much unbearable for her to endure. And yes I am exaggerating. Nonetheless, it is, well, shit since you can't even win in petty circumstances. The reason why I have no desire in entering contests. Poo.
But this thing, right here, makes me believe I can't be worse than him, in singing awfully. Weirdo.
Though a pity goes to a friend of mine who actually thinks hard in asking a witty slash clever question. Unlike me, the pain of being beaten by 'Will you marry me' and 'cats or dogs' is that much unbearable for her to endure. And yes I am exaggerating. Nonetheless, it is, well, shit since you can't even win in petty circumstances. The reason why I have no desire in entering contests. Poo.
But this thing, right here, makes me believe I can't be worse than him, in singing awfully. Weirdo.
Spoken Teeth
I want you back in the tees. When it cuts and smiles. Prolonged joys and insanity shaping skin. Forever shines on the back of the glass. Sixty five degree on love. Going around the box to fit yourself. By trading broken tongue for lines.
I want you back in the fleet. Where it circles. In my head. In my waves.
I want you back in the fleet. Where it circles. In my head. In my waves.
Anaemic Royalty
Completely different song but nonetheless, this would be enough in showcasing my love for this man, oh and the band, of course.
The last bit where he kind of gazed at the audience and blasted the last line was epic. Gave me goosebumps, or that was because the ac in the room was tad a bit low.
Nevertheless.
The other day a friend sent me an e-mail marking the sometieth years of the passing of Kurt Cobain. Eventhough I could care less since I was not build in a way I would be responsive in non-related but apparently sad events. The reason why I never cried watching those weird chick flicks (even by being a 'chick'). Though, that particular event (his death) was quite an important part of my life and basically left a mark on the life of mine, courtesy of my brother. That is due to the fact that he was (and still is) a huge fan of Nirvana, obviously. He did not quite mourned the death of the legend but he made sure that event will stick in my head for a very long time.
I do remember after the death (somehow I sound empathetic), he gave me the only band shirt I will ever have. Never worn it since it was too big for me but it is sentimental. Sentimental as because of his death, I had involved myself in the music Kurt himself and my brother loves. That is when Bowie, Melvins, Sabbath, Talking Heads and other comes in. Regardless of how my music preferences had changed over the course of my years, I do remember how it all started, and because (pardon me) the death of Cobain, it happened. I reckon I would have become slightly stupid in this kind of thing if he was still alive or nonchalant.
Oh and he grew the plant of liking the other half inside of me, though my friends think he is (was) ugly, I know if I ever end up with someone of such feature, my brother would love me for good. Haa.
Whatever it is, let us cheer for joy and grief for the man who had changed peoples' lives in one way or another. Good or bad, intelligently or maniacally stupid.
Too bad none of the people I know enjoy listening to his glistening current of sounds, beside my brother. I swear I am a boy stuck in a crazy girls' body since whenever I act like a girl, the whole world seem to crumbles into pieces. Or I am going mad, as always.
Losing Threads
Living in the far east journal, and counting down days just to pass the time. Slowly walking through your phase, since I know I will never get by.
.....................
Missing the t's and the p's. The 10 hours counter-strike. The good food on weekends. Awesome friends with no fouls. Fights over who has better muscles. Cringe when the sight of cakey-twats becomes clear.
It has only been a year but it seems forever. It changed everything. The person who was always beside you is now far ahead of you. I hate twats and that is always it. Trying to pretend they could be different is obviously a fight against diseases.
I should crawl in back to the cave, because maybe The Reds will get out of it and win.
.....................
Missing the t's and the p's. The 10 hours counter-strike. The good food on weekends. Awesome friends with no fouls. Fights over who has better muscles. Cringe when the sight of cakey-twats becomes clear.
It has only been a year but it seems forever. It changed everything. The person who was always beside you is now far ahead of you. I hate twats and that is always it. Trying to pretend they could be different is obviously a fight against diseases.
I should crawl in back to the cave, because maybe The Reds will get out of it and win.
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