I was brooding over it. Then i saw li jiawei's prerecorded semi-final match on tv mobile. (the most memorable link from the brainstorming session last night was indercove's li jiawei to fugly. You win handsdown.) And i realised the bitterness of it all. The frustrating anguish that comes with the expectation for a pre-determined ending. The hopelessness that you feel when you know that, no matter what you do, you lose. The fact that no matter how you hope, all hope will be in vain. The helpless submission to the voice that tells you to give up. All these things that are elaborated in a puff of futility is worse than the agony of any defeat and rejection. There, the magic dragon's mocking me. I concede. So much for my happy ending.
Jeff buckley's version of hallelujah is a very sad song. There are no happy songs out there. There are so many songs that compliment at least one part of my memory. Seems like most of those bits of memory that are recorded in my ost come in the form of sad little crumbs. Either i've been listening to too many of those melon-collie songs, or i've been too sad too often. Well, it's probably just the way i'm feeling, just for now. So i shall stop bitching.
Went atop my favourite rooftop today. Preferred the opportunity for a little reflecting and a little reminiscing, compared to an hour of fellowship. I'm just thankful for him keeping to his promises, especially at a time like this. You were pierced for me. Of late, everything seems to fall apart into two critical elements. Choice and response. When everything shed their clothes to reveal the bare naked simplicities. That's when i find peace and understanding.
Am i on a rampage to overwrite the memories? What use would i have with a spotless mind?
Chicka-chucka. Veronica in her full bonafide crimson splendor. It's all too easy to forget my flings with her. Those days when i flirted with her under the spotlights, our public displays of affection under the scrutiny of hundreds... She's aged quite a bit since(so have i). Doesn't respond as naturally to my touch anymore. Not even when she wear her slinky new strings. I don't know why i chose her in the first place. One thing for sure, ms peavey has been cheating on me for awhile now. Husky isn't sexy, not when you're a vampy amp. I'd settle for others, anytime.
Five day work week. For that i'm glad. Actually, to be exact, i'm gloating with an evil laughter under my breath. A fleeting thought, if my fellow country men (and women) abstain from their pursuits in procreation, we might just get a four day work week in ten years time. And we'll probably have to retire at seventy-five.
Six more days to deporting the goods.
Conserve water. Shower with friends. Can't seem to find that shirt.
Hillsong united was awesome, the bourne supremacy wasn't.
I didn't realise how late it is already. A few more minutes of sleep to last me a few more hours through the week. Goodnight, fellow passengers. Put the lights out, tuck in, and stop asking are we there yet. Cause i don't ever want this bus to stop.
Jeff buckley's version of hallelujah is a very sad song. There are no happy songs out there. There are so many songs that compliment at least one part of my memory. Seems like most of those bits of memory that are recorded in my ost come in the form of sad little crumbs. Either i've been listening to too many of those melon-collie songs, or i've been too sad too often. Well, it's probably just the way i'm feeling, just for now. So i shall stop bitching.
Went atop my favourite rooftop today. Preferred the opportunity for a little reflecting and a little reminiscing, compared to an hour of fellowship. I'm just thankful for him keeping to his promises, especially at a time like this. You were pierced for me. Of late, everything seems to fall apart into two critical elements. Choice and response. When everything shed their clothes to reveal the bare naked simplicities. That's when i find peace and understanding.
Am i on a rampage to overwrite the memories? What use would i have with a spotless mind?
Chicka-chucka. Veronica in her full bonafide crimson splendor. It's all too easy to forget my flings with her. Those days when i flirted with her under the spotlights, our public displays of affection under the scrutiny of hundreds... She's aged quite a bit since(so have i). Doesn't respond as naturally to my touch anymore. Not even when she wear her slinky new strings. I don't know why i chose her in the first place. One thing for sure, ms peavey has been cheating on me for awhile now. Husky isn't sexy, not when you're a vampy amp. I'd settle for others, anytime.
Five day work week. For that i'm glad. Actually, to be exact, i'm gloating with an evil laughter under my breath. A fleeting thought, if my fellow country men (and women) abstain from their pursuits in procreation, we might just get a four day work week in ten years time. And we'll probably have to retire at seventy-five.
Six more days to deporting the goods.
Conserve water. Shower with friends. Can't seem to find that shirt.
Hillsong united was awesome, the bourne supremacy wasn't.
I didn't realise how late it is already. A few more minutes of sleep to last me a few more hours through the week. Goodnight, fellow passengers. Put the lights out, tuck in, and stop asking are we there yet. Cause i don't ever want this bus to stop.
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