Crush

Sunday, August 26, 2012

when you cross the road.
do you intentionally pay less attention.
for the off chance that a vehicle's path.
might converge directly into yours.

she's not here @

2:54 AM

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

It is over my threshold for humor to entertain the mockery of Fate, whom i hear is quite the 'capricious bitch', and the fondness of History towards repetitions and cycles. God forbid i should be blamed for things always ending the same way, as i have held my tongue like i promised myself, to 'never ruin things by saying them out loud', but you have gone and blurted it out. And if you must know i don't blame you for the torture you shall thus inflict upon me, because if not you i would have been my own undoing. It took every ounce of will to shift my fingers in the last minute to secure my words and tighten my lip. This, coming from a person who has taken to 'training' herself in sealing her thoughts.. So honestly, how could you have managed? The fact that you spoke in code tells me that you want something that you know is wrong to want, and i echo you, except i couldn't tell you, because it is ugly and wrong and maybe i don't know what i want now do you?

she's not here @

6:49 AM

Monday, June 11, 2012

I was scanning through the photographs i took during the school trip to Tokyo, and here i sat for five whole minutes trying to focus my mind on the exact dates i've been there. It was end feb to early march, i reckon, but was it this year or last?? Neither seem possible, being too long ago and too recent respectively; i could check the dates i put on the album name (i always name albums with the dates and place) although having to do that feels silly and the point i'm making here is about how i always feel that Time moves 'simultaneously too fast or too slow', never 'just nice' or perhaps i am just never in pace, drowning in the great river of life.

Another point would be the fact that i seem to remember things event-based, snippets of time people smells taste etc nicely packaged and compartmentalized in my head. When i reminisce things, like my Tokyo trip, i tend to remember the people, the things that we did together, the feel of the place and mostly split these places according to whether i would visit them again or no. However, i feel nervous when i am unable to pull up the name of a place i like or am unable to describe the train route by which to get there. Then i realise that these factual details are as important to me as my feelings, as without them i am unable to recollect my memories in an organised chronological manner and everything remains a haze or a puddle at my feet. No closure, no finality, but a tangled bunch of beautiful memories that ideally should be weaved into the fabric of my being. Instead, they are 'compartmentalised', never truly absorbed into my essence; perhaps that is why i always feel 'different but the same', and it makes me wonder which is it - feelings/facts, heart/mind - that i cherish more.

The Mori Art Museum in Tokyo was showcasing Lee Bul's exhibit: From Me, Belongs to You Only
This is a significant memory for me and every time i reminisce Tokyo i will recall Lee Bul. Her art is beautiful and provocative, and i say 'beautiful' only because her sculptures are either intensively grotesque or comically glamorized, and i enjoyed her extreme wit sarcasm and humor. It is funny how she manages to make sculptures out of gems and bedazzling crystals look so fucking gross.

I wrote down these phrases from one of her sculptures, mon grand recit: weep into stones..., and since then they have been somewhat etched into the back of my skull :

WEEP INTO STONES
FABLES LIKE SNOW
OUR FEW EVIL DAYS

I found out that these are excerpted from Chapter V, Hydriotaphia by Sir Thomas Browne, longer excerpt below:
"Darknesse and light divide the course of time, and oblivion shares with memory, a great part even of our living beings; we slightly remember our felicities, and the smartest stroaks of affliction leave but short smart upon us. Sense endureth no extremities, and sorrows destroy us or themselves. To weep into stones are fables. Afflictions induce callosities, miseries are slippery, or fall like snow upon us, which notwithstanding is no unhappy stupidity. To be ignorant of evils to come, and forgetfull of evils past, is a mercifull provision in nature, whereby we digest the mixture of our few and evil dayes, and our delivered senses not relapsing into cutting remembrances, our sorrows are not kept raw by the edge of repetitions.."

I think Sir Thomas Browne was an optimist. I wish it was this way for everyone.

she's not here @

10:01 PM

I woke up today, startled, more like shocked, eyes flying open to release a dam of tears. Blurred dizzy and disoriented, it took my eyes two seconds to swivel my mind a hundred and eighty degrees, back onto the left side of the bed where i normally lie, back to where i was before my nightmare disarmed me. More seconds before i could stop my ribcage from shaking up more tears. It was strange, it felt so real, i can still remember its 'realness' while on the cusp of consciousness though now as i lie awake trying fervently i am unable to recall the exact sensation; my mind, now that it is lucid, raises a neat barrier to demarcate dreams|reality, to separate physical existence from mere impressions.

And yet, despite what my senses tell me are truly 'existing' such that i can differentiate 'place' and believe as a truth that i am not sleeping in my old bed, there is no one else here except me and audrey beside me, and logically deduce from the differences in this setting (i am not questioning that Time is linear here because that is how i experience it) that the present time has long embarked from the harrowing time in my dream...

In my mind where it has the power to ruffle up neatly folded white sheets of memories and shift me through them, the knowledge that 'Time is linear' has no practical relevance whatsoever when i am not actively trying to enforce it. As much as it is the operator of logical processes, the mind requires the body and it's inherent senses to tether it to what is real. Left to it's own device, everything is impression and there are no rules; there is no gravity, there are multiple points of gravity, gravity collapses into itself enfolding me into it's singularity, and before i could help myself i am hurtled into a black hole, a dark tunnel, reliving a different time, a mash up of 'times', and then it was not 'just a nightmare' but as real as Life. I am a barophobic. I wonder what brought on this episode this time.

she's not here @

2:08 PM

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

When i look at the faces of people i'm interested/ feel i would be interested in, i always wonder what their voices would sound like. i find this idiosyncrasy of mine odd as well, it's not like voices are indicative of personality or character traits.. perhaps it's my idea of fun or an act of compulsion, but i always felt that a certain face type would match a particular voice and by 'serious extension' a certain personality. It's one of the things i honestly can't explain or would be thought of as a freak if i ever do try, but here it is - do you think me a freak?

There's this stranger i read religiously, and by 'religiously' i mean 'all the time like a ritual'. i don't know her, neither does she me, but i can't help feeling our resemblance and while saying this i also feel like if i were her i'd respond with a wall of skepticism being 'protective of my individuality'. She writes about her life and feelings extensively, and i think it qualifies me as a stalker to know the names of her friends. (Disclaimer : i never do this in real life) To some extent maybe i'm even envious of her because she's a living, breathing version of who i wish to be and the life i wish to have.
Now i say this with utmost caution because we are two 'alike' people in almost entirely different environments; i have good things in my life that i will never exchange anything for, but i think i yearn to have good friends with whom i can be honest about myself to, like she does. If we ever meet, it will go either way: We'll understand each other like telepathy and be great friends, or our auras will rebound off each other like electric and stay as far apart as ends of a dichotomy.
Either way, i'd just be curious to know her voice.

she's not here @

2:20 AM

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

This holiday will be a predictable repetition of previous ones, characterized by the formation of hopeful plans that never crystallize and recognition that this lack of motivation is a mark of a failure. i have enough experience to argue with anyone who say that 'being self-aware is better than being ignorant', because while the ignorant cannot be blamed and is therefore innocent (via merely a victim of his own lack), the self-aware who does not act upon his knowledge is in every way guilty. Furthermore, awareness that does not eventually lead to positive changes only causes inner torment, precisely because he knew. Perhaps it is from this conflict that came the phrase 'ignorance is bliss'; yet this is a wistful statement coined by a conflicted man who would rather stand the pain and anguish that certain knowledge could bring than to ever settle as a happy fool.

Things i planned to do this summer:
finish driving course
get a job
learn rhino
improve other software skills
read all my design books
read all my books
draw/paint something
write something
go overseas

Things i have done so far:
get a job

I always tell others to celebrate the victories and swallow the regrets- that is, after licking it with every taste bud. Remember that night we were smoking apples and drinking wine, and i told you about how i am always cautious towards feeling any form of happiness that i dare not celebrate my victories. That was the first time i shared anything like this with anyone because we are 'close' and you have earned the 'privilege' to know some of my secrets. You chided me saying that it's because i was a 'lil weirdo who liked this sadness' and i replied 'what, no. maybe you're right'. I suppose i was caught red-handed but i was glad i could finally talk about things that i guess are important to me and since then i look forward to your presence and love.

These little intervals are when you smile saying 'it's a good time to be alive', and i agree also smiling like i actually meant it.
Do you get it?
This is my affliction.

she's not here @

11:56 PM

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

great night catching up with old friends again, as always, gratitude for having these people in my life and for them choosing to keep me in theirs..
amazed at how far we've come, recollecting our best decisions in life, pondering our 'futures'.
makes me feel well sorted, like in the midst of chaos i at least have good things going on for me- good friendships, people that i will fight for with my bones. a direction to head towards, happiness in work.
it helps to form mental images of a plausible future, to say things like "it would my goal to do this and that, and we could all sit around a table like this and be awesome together..."

flipping pages of history in my head to spot marked changes in me.

it feels like i have grown older, grown quiet. quiet but not calm. i would like to know that i have 'grown' over the years, that i am even a little closer to being adjusted...
yet simultaneously i still feel like the same person with the same blackhole residing within, ever so conscious of my expiration date, chock-full of ugliness.
one day i will find a way to communicate the things that seem important to me
one day i will release this darkness and inner tension by moving the chaos in my heart into my art
one day i will promise myself this

she's not here @

3:39 AM

Sunday, April 08, 2012

yet another overnight in school spent drowning in pools of sad uselessness.
i suppose i have no rights to expect sympathy being the cause of all hurt.
i suppose it's not even a matter of people [understanding] my point of view;
how i say it might hurt me more than anything to hurt another..
how i say there is no one escaping unscathed, hurt free, how even the evil doer is still a victim. mere selfishness on my part. how your accusing words cut me like daggers
again i am arrested with my back crouched chest to knee
i'd bear with physical pain over imaginary pain any day

if only i could make my heart stop

or vanquish this unspeakable cruelty i have in me

she's not here @

2:25 AM