Friday, September 21, 2007

little skeletons that dance in the closet.

Seldom have I felt this, seldom have I felt this jagged schism within which I can put no words to.

The divorce between thoughts and emotions which I had expected or wished for, never did happen, and I am shattered anew at old revelations which have unfolded behind stage curtains of words and imagined pauses. But this unrest stems from a very real tranquility, one which I acknowledge, even if at odds with whatever facade (or facet) I may portray. And much to my chagrin, it seems that the passage of time is brutally indiscriminatory, of who and what it drags and swallows up in its wake, where everything that used to count for something, is now naught, nothing and rendered void.

Even as I say that, it isn't entirely true, but it may as well be, especially when it's no longer a matter of what-it-may but what-it-was. A very subtle but important difference, and I don't even know when I've made the leap in thought, suffice to say that - I already have.

I am sad, but sad in a very abstract sort of way, due to my inability to isolate a single overpowering factor or reason - as if by doing so, my current state of the bleakest of all melancholy will be justified. But I can't, so I don't, because I know that I'm just touched by the trappings of the familiar, the tendrils of its passing shadow.

The presence of the absence of light has never been more threatening, and to compound that with the Houdini acts of inanimate objects which I had held, or still hold, so dear? Not so long ago, I had furiously written by unwriting, but now, it is through writing, that I find myself unwritten.

blueprint

I will like to spend my days, as though they are my own, which I mostly end up doing in halves, for duty beckons, and I am answering its clarion call. Soon enough! I am also a veteran procrastinator.

fresh monodies

the priestess.
capriciously testing the limits.
familiar strangers.
before i walk out of the door to secret destinations
After I pull an all-nighter, I always promise myse...
gentle ripples.
the things you remember.
irritated.
before i lie awake in bed.
as we have always done before.

previous rants

August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
November 2010
January 2011
February 2011
August 2011
October 2011
May 2013

treatises on life

arty jen
betty boop
carmentica
charming-linn
chasing snowy cars
cheeky lynn
cheryliciously glam
clean and cute
cyclist-mad bass
darling dominic
feisty jing
fellow ditz-sista/porkSTAR
hail mary!
hell's kitchen
hero on the beach
h-Euge heart
hunky lenny
lipgloss queen
little cheryl
live n learn, baby
lolita lou
loony loon
mr popular
musically dan
m y s t j
phringe
princess tania
roger smurf
runaway pigeon
sabotage king jeremiah
sibling angst1
sibling angst2
spector dan
spunky tian
steffy bunny
sun-sunzzz
teeny wee-nee
weeeee, leonard!
yangtze yang'en

frivolous pursuits

for shallow ppl
for very geeky ppl
for the truly bored
spun prose
binary thoughts
past imprints
some stamps
montage of images
other memories

mulling over

And there were phlegmatic souls.