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the bitch
There's nothing interesting about me, except the fact that I really should stop switching blogs.
bitch de nuit
Another pretentious way of saying "Bitch, please."
clickme
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
All my thoughts they spin me round
I was once an eloquent bloke; words, like dabs of thick, gooey paint squeezed across a grubby palette; life, through my squinted eyes, seeded my mind. The strokes rhymed, the colors proved to be an impeccable match - I was inspired by an end that was faultless as it was complete.
My life began to keep its record through my chosen form of expression - words. Every minute alone was an opportunity for my mind to run through the scripts that constructed my life, examining every loophole and abolishing every doubt with a truth - a truth so comforting that settles within my knowing. Below the sift would sit a moment of clarity, one where the lies are weeded and the truth inevitably hurts.
It was my steroid, a pump of adrenaline into my fingers as the words crystallized on the tip and appeared before me, shepherded by a single flashing cursor. For quite some time, it was my sole resort to making sense of everything that was happening.
Life as I knew it came in 26 alphabets, punctuated by silent pauses of reverie.
And then I went ahead and fell in, and out of love. The one, single person - one who for the past 18 years of my life never knew or mattered in any way possible to me - stepped into my life and turned everything I knew into a mess worth mocking. My accustomed routine was rudely interrupted, disheveled and debacled; my usual haunts haunted me with a deprived longing - I was in every sense crippled.
But even with my life flipped like a failed sunny side up, crashed into a halt and left for passers-by to stare at, everything, somehow - in some weird, unexplainable way - made sense. The pain was inexorably clear, and I was severely aware to the truth that was as ugly as it was fruitless.
I knew, for once in my life, without the aids of words and punctuations, I knew. I knew so hard it hurt, and god... did it hurt bad.
But I'll let you in on a little secret. Maybe I'm built to hurt, maybe I'm not, but it was, without a doubt, the best feeling I've ever had in the entire of my 19 year-old life - to love, to know, and to hurt.
0 anal amy
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Tis the season to be jolly!
Send your own ElfYourself eCards
1 anal amy
Friday, December 19, 2008
Me, me, and more of me.
A certain someone once asked me who I was, what kind of person I'm described to be, the facades and the man behind them. To be honest, I didn't know who to be; the man I want that certain someone to see me as, the man I portray myself to be, or the man as I know me to be.
I was stumped, between the truth and everything else beside it.
So a fake email, a couple of naive friends and a night later, here's a little something I put together. It's nothing extraordinary, but I'm nothing extraordinary either.
"Honest, firm-believer-of-dolphins-in-tuna, candysweet, annoying-as-hell, intelligent & reflective, hopeless romantic." - Nura
"Selvan's golden boy, inDesign-hater, email-spammer and an all-round Britney-lover." - Francine
"He loves HRC, Play, tears, chick flicks, chick lit, himself, boys, sheesha, clubbing, cigs, booze, romance, sex, food and a combination of all of the above. But I think everyone already knew that.
"Selvan's golden boy, inDesign-hater, email-spammer and an all-round Britney-lover." - Francine
"He loves HRC, Play, tears, chick flicks, chick lit, himself, boys, sheesha, clubbing, cigs, booze, romance, sex, food and a combination of all of the above. But I think everyone already knew that.
He also likes knowing secrets, flirtation, laughing at others' misfortune, watching unlikely couples in a sexual act, new (and painless) experiences (especially if it can produce a picture which he thinks he looks cute in, e.g. a costume), being the center of attention for a short period, catharsis, dancing, spontaneous group activities (e.g. bursting into song), endearing gay activities (e.g. baking), and grand plans." - Le Raine
"To me, Daniel = Meredith from GA." - Sarah
"Maybe Daniel would love a big phallus shaped cake with chocolate all over cos I think we all know his preferences." - Bella
"YOU MOOTARD." - Siewling
"To me, Daniel = Meredith from GA." - Sarah
"Maybe Daniel would love a big phallus shaped cake with chocolate all over cos I think we all know his preferences." - Bella
"YOU MOOTARD." - Siewling
From them, to me, to you,
Daniel
0 anal amy
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
With your body in mind.
Everything is starting to make sense.
The boxes unopened; equations derived from another, everything, and I mean everything, is starting to piece itself together. The jigsaw has puzzled an overdue mystery. The final pieces have found it's belonging, and the picture that stands before me, it scares me.
It fucking scares me. The potential to hurt speaks to me more than a thousand, a trillion words, ever could, and that, that will break me. I am certain it will.
And when that happens, where will you be?
Where will all of you be?
0 anal amy
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
December never felt so wrong
This Christmas,
I don't want a big pine tree.
I don't want presents; wrapped, ribboned nor exchanged.
I don't want an over roasted turkey, stuffing overflowing.
I don't want Santa to come down my chimney.
(I don't have a chimney.)
I don't want to lie and say I've been on my best behavior this year.
I don't want to wait for the snow that will never come.
I don't want the mandatory Santa hat.
I don't want a merry Christmas.
I don't want the candles lit.
This Christmas, all I want to do is just fall in love.
I don't want presents; wrapped, ribboned nor exchanged.
I don't want an over roasted turkey, stuffing overflowing.
I don't want Santa to come down my chimney.
(I don't have a chimney.)
I don't want to lie and say I've been on my best behavior this year.
I don't want to wait for the snow that will never come.
I don't want the mandatory Santa hat.
I don't want a merry Christmas.
I don't want the candles lit.
This Christmas, all I want to do is just fall in love.
0 anal amy
Monday, December 8, 2008
Note to self and you:
I feel like I'm not allowed, or rather, in no position to feel any pain, or anything at all.
After all, the technicalities are laid out before the rest of the world, and the picture is contrasted in black and white. The encounter was one that was brief. Succinctly sweet, yet enough to throw me into a spiral of painful clarity. I'm yanked out of this saccharine blur by a figurative pair of ugly glasses, and now the scenery before me feels as foreign as it is clear.
How do I, or am I even supposed, to react to the new found truth?
I think I'm not cut out for casual dating.
Even the term itself irks me. There is nothing casual about me, or dating, put together. I don't know how to hold back, I don't know how much to put in. I follow what the heart entails, and my heart works in ways some might describe as 'aggressive'. While everyone else is dipping their feet into the water, I fall straight in; heart first and head last.
I'm not making sense now, so I'll just put this home bound train of thoughts on hold.
I pray you'll be happy, that someone typical enough who can fit those picturesque shoes, will come walking straight into your life one day. I hope that you'll finally be acquainted with love one day, and the tint your eyes view the world through will take new meaning like it is supposed to. You deserve to be nothing less than happy, and you deserve no one less than the one who can make you the happiest. You deserve to live and love, and know so surely that you have at the same time.
I wish you love, I wish you your end of the day.
Take care, you. (F)
0 anal amy
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Time.
"No matter how hard I keep landing, I guess I owe it to myself to fall. Because the heart wants what the heart wants, and apparently, mine wants a nasty bruise."
Intoxication detoxification, anyone?
Intoxication detoxification, anyone?
0 anal amy
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
In/sane.
Sanity is a strange game to play.
We think we've got it within our tightly-shut grasps; stranger to stranger, a knowing smile acknowledges. Control is ours to declare and rainbows sanitize the storm's aftermath.
Guess what? Think again.
There's no sanity to what this world has offered upon our platter. Silence has become our preferred form of communication, screams are engulfed by our desire to not. Wars are waged across the borders that fence the land we call home, yet ruthlessly tapped on for selfish, mostly personal, gains. Love has given way to the idea of love, like poets to rappers. Ordinary human beings weave across extraordinary circumstances, yet mediocrity looms like a common plague.
We breathe the air, polluted by environmentalists who evangelize the extremity of a perfect world; we sing the songs for the rhythmic solutions they provide. Denial has become a prerequisite to prolong the smile that hangs across the faces of many, and facades are accessorized to prove a fashionably powered statement.
People live, people die. Yet our lives continue to need living, our dreams unpublished. Drafts are kept folded and stuffed into our pockets, unaware of the state it'd otherwise have materialized in. We try as much as we fail, we fail as much as our beliefs will allow.
Who prosecutes the right from the wrong? Who answers the questions that drives our curiosity insane? Who stands by us, shoulders ready and arms stretched out, waiting in utmost patience for the end of the day?
You, I hope.
0 anal amy