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| Tuesday, May 29, 2012 |
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I'm at the point where I'm content with my below average bourgeois life, which is totally crippling my 'creative' drive. I'm beginning to think that perhaps art feeds of tragedy; that creativity can only thrive of real suffering and emotion.
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posted at 4:58 PM   |
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| Monday, October 03, 2011 |
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 "Dude, do you remember Sasha from the Park?" Even with a newly lit cigarette barely dangling on his pursed lips, Jack seems can not shut his whore mouth. The stick wiggles on his lips, and the burning amber at the end of it kinda looks like a tiny person is having a solo rave party on his face."Doesn't ring a bell 'cause unlike you I don't associate with Russian hookers." You're not even trying. The dim atmosphere makes everything hazy.
"Hey fuck you man. It's Sasha, the girl we met in the club the other day."
"Ah the big tits girl. Yeah what about her?" Yeah how can you forget about her. She has the prettiest rack you've ever seen in your entire life. Her boobs are not grotesquely huge, but on her skinny body, they definitely stood up like a mega spotlight on shiny new truck. Despite her awesome melons grabbing all attention, somehow you vividly remember her face. She's definitely pretty. Like high school sweetheart pretty. You know when you see someone, you just know that they're sluts? Well Sasha ain't like that. She has a laid back yet cool vibe around her. Even with the grace of her gorgeousness, you feel at ease around her. You don't even have to impress her with you game, because she just make you feel that comfortable.
Too bad she was with her protective and loud bunch of annoying hyenas. You simply refused to deal with those banshees and let this perfect little specimen slipped through your fingers.
"Well I hear she died two days ago" his hands are busy shuffling a deck of cards. "Road accident." Jack offers a detail before you are relieved from your initial shock.
to be continued because i'm lazy Labels: story
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| posted at 3:17 PM |
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 You shift through all your old photographs. The box marked Jan 2011 tumbles down your skinny naked legs as you scoop the universe and everything in it with your trembling lithe hands. It is an occasion that deserves a dramatic free flowing tears, and yet you feel numb, as if by the grace of God, you are shielded from the shattering pain that you're suppose to feel. But indeed, your heart is breaking into thousands and thousand of pieces. As if the lattices of atom failed to hold their position and the destructive nature of contagious domino effect take place in every direction and reverse.You are trying to get at least one reason to hold on your hope. One tiny speck of reason that the man you love deserves another try in your heart. Between his smile and his eyes; and by the way he makes you feel like the luckiest girl in the world and his special ability to lit up your world in a single nanosecond, he seems perfect. But he has a flaw that he miserably failed to hide. Motherfucker is lying.
It's true that what you don't know, won't hurt you. And once you get to the ugly truth, man doesn't it shatter your shiny little bubble? Suddenly you're enveloped by layers upon layers of shame. You curse to the high heaven on the lack of way to easily wipe unwanted memories off your pretty little dumb head.
Maybe you deserve it. It's your karma. You found out that he dumped his fat old hag for you. But instead of feeling sad for the poor little fat girl, you feel good about yourself. Yeah, you're a hot shit and he definitely has a good taste. He flaunt you like you're made of Prada, and bitches and hoes were mad jealous at your luck.
Now you need a new game plan. You will cut all connection with him, and he definitely deserves no goodbye nor explanation from you. You will be better, and fuck guys with big cock and even bigger money. You need to get your slut on. Sorry you're not sorry. Labels: story
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| posted at 2:10 AM |
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| Saturday, August 13, 2011 |
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 There's an old bridge that connects your side of town with an abandoned tin mine. It is hid from most common folks' knowledge, probably not even shown in Google map. You know this place for the longest time. It used to be haunted, home of spooky spirit that eats children's soul, but you are not afraid of it anymore. It used to be bustling with people. People doing work that make the world go round. And then after the mineral was exhausted, everybody moved away. When people were not around, the ghosts moved in, and as you grow older, you built up your courage and chased away the ghosts. Now the bridge is yours. A place where you spent countless hours doing absolutely nothing but watching the day pass by. You cried here a few times too. When life got too unbearable, that bridge was your last fortress. There's something soothing about the place. Maybe the spirits are still there, listening to your troubles between your sobbings. And then as if they gave you their understanding blessings, you felt like your pain was lifted and you walked home as light as a butterfly. This therapy arrangement helped you to get through most of your hellish teenage years. And you didn't share your secret with anyone else. Today is a different story tho. You are not here to tell your story. You're here to say goodbye. The quiet life in this sleepy town smothered you. You're tired of the stillness of this place. The silence of the surrounding seemed so loud that you feel like you're not invited to share a known secret. But mostly you're running away from that face. The one that you once trusted and cared and meant the world to you. The love is still in your heart, but a betrayal should never be paid with a trust. A trust is a one time deal. Once it's broken, it can never be mend. Or maybe it is your heart that you cannot trust? You tend to be reckless, offering your forgiveness to those who don't deserve it. There's no quota for forgiveness, but there's so much a heart can take. You have to protect yourself. You need to survive. You stand under the flood of sun light, drifting your eyes into the wide open vista. Without a spoken word, you wish your best regards to your surroundings. To the lake, to the shrub and bushes, to the wind, to the old bridge and to the spirits. Thank you for being a friend. You close your eyes and inhale deeply, as if you're trying to suck the soul of the place into your lungs, so that they will be a permanent part of you. You hope that another lonely soul will take over your place and be the bridge's companion, for you are not going to return back. Ever. This is a divorce. Good-bye. Just breathe in and walk away. Labels: story
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| posted at 10:36 AM |
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| Thursday, August 04, 2011 |
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 Sometimes the girl stands with arms around the boy’s waist, hands tightly clasped behind. Another fits her head into the curve of his cheek while tears fall onto his coat. Now and then the boy will take her face between his hands and speak reassuringly. Or, if the wait is long they may just stand quietly, not saying anything. The common denominator of all these goodbyes is sadness and tenderness, the complete oblivion for the moment to anything but their own individual heartaches. - Life, February 14, 1944 Labels: love, quote
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| posted at 2:02 AM |
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| Thursday, July 21, 2011 |
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Your skin is mad itching. The week old stubbe has grown into a small goatee that looks rather unkempt. You stop caring about stuff a lot lately. Your room is in a giant mess, you missed your work out for days now, your work is piling up, your personal life crumbling, but you put no effort to make things right. Everything is not worth saving. Labels: blurb
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| posted at 1:10 PM |
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| Tuesday, July 19, 2011 |
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I'm beginning to think that this whole writing thing may be a bad idea. I started writing yesterday, and so far it has been going really well. It's just I'm so damn lazy.
Labels: personal updates
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| posted at 2:45 AM |
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| Sunday, July 17, 2011 |
| An overdue resurgent |
 Almost two years later, finally I mustered enough courage to revisit this forsaken space and trying to re-live the old habit of spewing mindless bullshit that no one will absolutely care. So I guess a nugget of update is obligatory to dear old acquaintances that I neglect to contact.What can I say, life is not always on a monotone note. Sometimes I met high peaks but mostly it was just layers and layers of pitless shit slurm. I also have had been stagnant in these couple of years. No major change accept that I look older and I noticed that I've lost that glint of liveliness in my eyes. That's what usually happen when you got older; the fictitious time eats your body and sips your soul. It's astounding really how a man can not grow given the opportunities that lies before him.
Truthfully I have no appetite anymore. What drives me to do what I have to do is the need to satisfy other people's need. If I live in some magical place where I don't have any responsibility, I'd be a hermit who gives no shit to the passing world.
I think I want to take this blog into a different direction. It'll be less about me and the world. No more comments about news and trends. I don't think people need any commentary blogs because a) Nobody gives a shit, really. We all just want our voices to be heard but we refuse to listen. We all are our own sage. And b) I know nothing about current affair; and let's not forget that I'm hilariously dumb. (ps- This is the part where you pretend that you disagree, feigning a terrible exasperation).
I've always been a big fan of words and sentences. They can paint a more beautiful and vivid picture- prettier than Monet, clearer than the latest High-Definition gadgetry; and mostly, stories can invoke your own version of interpretation of how you're going to feel about it. Now I should offer an advance warning that I'm neither trained nor have a speck of talent in storytelling, but I think I'm going to give it a try. I mean shit, other than time and productivity, what do I got to lose right?
This is going to be a suck-fest. I just know it. Labels: personal updates
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| posted at 5:18 AM |
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| Monday, August 09, 2010 |
| Slowly healing or so I thought |
She's gone for over a year, but I actually feel that she never left. I can clearly picture her smile in my mind as if her death never happened. I can remember so vividly her crooked teeth, the back of her neck when she did an up 'do, the naughty cleavage peeking out when she bend over (and I nervously trying not to get caught), the softness of her warm embrace, her laugh, her being there. Every time I spend time with her, I was overwhelmed by her aura. She was sensational. I'm damn proud because I was in a close proximity with the greatness, and mostly because I probably will not achieve such glory.
I know that I'm delusional to think that she's alive, most probably because thinking that she's actually died breaks and rots my heart.
Once she told me that 'when there is love, she'll be there'. And that's why I'm gonna love everything so that she will always be here. On earth.
Labels: love
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| posted at 12:18 AM |
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“Count your smiles instead of your tears; Count your courage instead of your fears.”
~ Unknown
“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
~ Maya Angelou
“The secret of Happiness is Freedom, and the secret of Freedom, Courage.”
~ Thucydides
“Everything becomes a little bit different as soon as it is spoken out loud”
~ Hermann Hesse
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Debt Consolidation
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