coldrian

why is everyone bothered by terrorism? isn't this what the world does? it tells you, 'do exactly as i say or die!'

I can only hope you read this. Because since you disappeared there has been no one to talk to. Those spare sentences we exchanged helped. But now I have to do this alone. That was rather my decision, but I do wish I had decided otherwise.

i feel that i can say anything here because you'd never find it. you're like way up there beyond me. you're like a cloud - flimsy and easily discorporated.

Well, there's your season ender. Bye-bye to you who wil never read this. Goodbye, it's been swell and out of my league. Enjoy the rest of your day.

well now i'm glad about where i am, and what i do. and no, you can't convince to step back into either the academe or the publishing world.

i'm good here. (or else i will get into welding, or making cottage cheese, or raising ducks).

goodness! this thing is still here?? it's been more than thirty days of radio silence and this is still undeletable. well, more time to gather up the bits and pieces to move to the hard drive away from prying eyes.

that messed-up feeling you've been getting? it's called dehydration. that other messed-up feeling is from eating more carbs than you, you person with desk job and too many hours spend commuting, actually need. that third messed-up feeling is when you try to read books you read for school.

tried listening instead yesterday, but then BAAM! just like that, i was off to sleep. that shakespeare guy's books, taken out of his academic contexts, sounds like a lot of English people talking way too fast for my lower-middle class asian brain to understand. it's far, far too clever for me.

i'm sticking (predictably) with my Charlaine Harris for now.

I had a whole bunch of thoughts i was going to post the other day. And now they're gone. No big, I suppose. But I was hoping to come up with some coping strategies, so that when they surface again I'll be ready.

Maybe I applied the coping strategy I've been using the past few months. When things take a dark turn, I just think of that scene in Watchmen where New York and several key cities are blasted into atoms by Dr. Manhattan's powers, or of the final scene in 30 Days of Night where Eben turns to ash as first light hits him, or of that scene in LSH issue 5 where the world goes white after Mon-El destroys the Time Trapper, or even that scene in that show where the reality bomb atomises a few human subjects.

But I love that scene in 30 days of Night best.

Hello LJ. And so it appears that twitter does not suffice for all my needs.

I wish I were the kind of person who didn't need an outlet, who can just survive on twitter.

But here I am again writing in my LJ. It's not as cool as it used to be. Oh, go suck it. Obviously I am still think in terms of what's cool and what's not. You probably have different terms for it bet you still somewhat think in the same way.

I'm writing here again because (the most pathetic thing to write - "I am writing here because") the me I think myself to be is so far from the me I actually am. (Oh slay me now, you are so pathetic.) No, really. I've read this somewhere, during my time as a psychology major. It's the gap between what one experiences and what one thinks, or the gap between one's schemata and one's reality that causes all this mental disturbance. And looking across all these dating profiles on the net (particularly on that site which shall not be mentioned here), you, I see how the profile I would like to put there is so far from the profile which would actually be written, if I wrote the truth. I lie even as I speak. I lie even as I write. I'm mostly lies and nothing else. This is probably even a lie.

I feel like a religious bastard writing "I wish there were some cold hard fragment of truth in me that I could at least feel proud of". Like something solid and real and you could rest your head on. But no, there's nothing. (This is probably a lie.)

Maybe it's that everything I do seems...or a lot of the things I would normally, naturally do run counter my stature in life. (Hahaha, that's a funny thing to say, and also funny because translated that would so sound struggling lower-middle/lower-lower class). But if I were to do the things befitting my stature in life, then gosh that would just be so boring. It would be boring to the lie that is me that is thinking/writing this right now.

There are no solutions. No immediate solutions to this. Perhaps one good thing is that my work is focused on finding solutions to problems. (Unlike what i used to do before, which was just about talking about problems - oh whatever, I still don't quite know what that was supposed to be. It was clear before too many people started talking. It was clear when it was just May and Martin talking).

Later I will head off to work. (Should I say head on to work?) and do a fraction of a fraction of work. An ounce of work to keep things going (But everything else is going nowhere).

i always end up back here. tsk. tsk.

About two nights ago, on the night my brain was overwhelmed with codes and coding errors, and actively defragmenting while i was still awake, had a visitation from the strange one. This was of course, when i was already asleep. This time, this entity said "you don't know what it's like. you have no idea". I was starting to feel a bit of sympathy, then the entity said "Your sympathy? Keep it!" Then it stormed out my room.

Strange, that one..

like the quiet dawn after a massive drinking party, that's how this space feels like right now.

i can hear my own footsteps, and my own mental sentences, like spiders crawling out of the woodwork. i can see the light, and the dust. things are moving slower. from point A to point B in more than the necessary amount of time.

i will rearrange these teacups. perhaps i will find something. perhaps nothing. perhaps just more dust, more light. but then perhaps, more space.

Saw awesome Thai film while on my busride. Kids take back their village from rebels. Movie felt very much like Waid-Kitson Legion Lemnos arc. http://tinyurl.com/c22w4j

me, last Saturday, by the shore. space and clouds.

(thanks to my workmate JR, for the chance-awesome pic)

well, it's good he's moving on. now this can be more my space and less the space to for-whatever-reason stalk him.

amazing feeling. like someone walked out of a crowded room. there's like a breath of fresh snark-reduced air.

with one down, there's little reason to delete.

not like i've really explored this shared space anyway. must scan these communities. perhaps not all of them are snark-infected.

I attended Irwin's "lecture" but didn't say 'Hi'. So upsetting. At that time I felt so inadequate. He knows photography and he's been places. All I've done is post my half-thoughts, and commute.

...

I want to think (maybe this will help me stay here) that the literary text is a working draft for a film, or a photograph, or a soundscape. It's not the end point and should not be treated as such.

...

It feels so inadequate, what I know. It isn't enough for a prolonged conversation with an academic. It isn't enough to last beyond dinner to dessert to after-dessert.

journal undeleted while maragtas finishes his 'dream' arc. will post half-thought out thoughts here, since my twitter is getting cluttered with LJ-type posts.

if i could just change my username.

i don't know why i'm keeping this. twitter is so much more feasible for a non-upper-middle class guy. this - livejournal - is kinda like the anglo-american literature syllabus - do i really need to know all this? plus it's kinda like an excuse not to meet for tea and cakes.

aargh! i don't know how to deal with this. dinakip na lang nang ganun yung mga tao. just like that. no warrant of arrest, no (those things the lawyers said). gawd! you still want to stay here? still think there's something worth staying for? you should be running now.

plus the DOJ will file charges against the Public Attorneys Office for doing their job?! nyahahaha!! something is seriously wrong here!

this guy's shirt:



taken April 11, 2009, Easter Vigil Mass