Monday, September 28, 2009

a dramatic weekend of sorts.

Both on the work front, and elsewhere.

Swept away all too easily, it seems. But I have not forgotten the bitter undercurrent of endless desire, it's just.. I will soon have a mortgage to pay.

As do we all, I suppose.

Today, I heard from them, them whom I've spent a quarter of my life with and then, lost contact. Happy, excited, that there's a new project that's coming up and I'm thrilled at the prospect of getting my hands dirty for a different reason for once.

Still, work forecast for 2010 may not allow it, and I am seated once again with fingers embalmed, eyes closed to the wind and the world's brilliant green.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

for nights such as these

such nights they are, that i think of the many, and always,

and always, near and yet so far gone, with that half-smile which betrays not a single tear.

Thursday, September 03, 2009

as it settles, like fairy dust long expired

Sometimes, after classes, I'm on an unbelievable high, endorphins all fired up from good music.

Then, the crash.

I've been reading Schopenhauer again, so that could be part of the reason. When one considers our imprisonment, shackled by the endless yearning and desire, of course tragedy will lie in its promised unfulfillment. Have there ever been happy endings?

Now, immersed in monads from the past with accumulated meaning, temporarily unindividuated, the silence after the final cadence is a rude shock to the senses. To be submerged again, my name given away, another piece of music, another act of compulsive repetition, when will the sublime reliving of suffering end?

To feel the tension between dissonance and consonance, longing and fulfillment, and then, the desperate need for resolution and its resulting anguished satisfaction, this isn't difficult to comprehend. But to have it lead ahead of you, limbs jerking grotesquely between objection and submission, repeating with no end in sight

if only it existed, my blanket of the eternal night.

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

Old wounds hurt most, I learned this today, becaus...
She speaks, repeating the old litanies, of worn ac...
time skips
and it all comes together!
beethoven's symphony no.7 2nd mvt
again,
towards that something
In the alley of shadows and death
Masking Tape
another end of the world

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.