Is This... It.

Hmm, it's one of those names I keep repeating inside my head. Testing how each syllable would sound, how each sound would taste if I stretch it here, clip it there.

I think I like it.

Fuck, daydreaming again.

Pfft. Seems like most things that catch my eye are sort of unattainable, behind a wall of glass, stuff like that.

I've always liked rolling R's off my tongue.

Jesus, look at me. Gah, what a sop.

I mean, it's not like there's anything substantial.

Well, fuck me. We're all allowed our little bouts of fantasy, I suppose.

It's been awhile.

Cute how I can just exhale the last syllable.

But those are just daydreams, ya know.

Reality bites.

Saanoofi Aventis.

An observation,

Believing in online friends is a bit like religion.

It's mostly faith and hearsay.

Me? I kinda enjoy my real, tangible relationships. A bit hypocritical and conceited? Doubtless.

But whatever, it suits me just fine.

I'm glad that's over with.

Sombrero, Robert DeNiro.

The last time I wrote a blog post of any considerable length was.....

Who the fuck knows?

I'm not sure whether it's because I am no longer expressive in my writing whether I'm uncomfortable writing on my blog, or whether I am just creatively stunted.

Or whether I have just said all that I have wanted to say.

I actually don't have anything to say now. I'm boring that way. So shoot me.

Look me in the eye and fire it point blank.

Bang. I'm dead. There's blood on your blazer and little pieces of skull and grey matter.

Oh, and there's something on your lip. Right... there...

I used to be able to write but then, I grew up.

SO HERE IS A POINTLESS ENTERTAINING VIDEO FEATURING DANZIG AND SHAKIRA

And all the men in the room experience a collective stiffening as Shakira's chest starts popping.

WOMAN!

You used to be my...

Romeo.

WHERE'S YOUR HEAD AT

WHERE'S YOUR HEAD AT

WHERE'S YOUR HEAD AT

WHERE'S YOUR HEAD ATASDADADAD

WHERE'S YOUR HEAD ATHEAD ATHEAD ATHEAD AT

WHERE'S YOUR HEAD AT

Moleskine.

Lacking words to properly express myself while those available are largely inadequate,

and some too personal to put out on a blog,

Thank you.

Jaw-dropped.

Fuck me, 2 huge surprises in one day.

Not quite sure whether this one is good or bad.

But if I died right now, lightning struck me where I stood, an innocuous pen rolling off the cabinet, hitting the desk and the cap richocheting of it to puncture through my skull (like in Final fucking Destination), AT LEAST

I wouldn't die too sad.

Wow.

I feel warm.

Hamooli Kabooby.

Today, at work, I stood at the info counter. Then I priced magazines. Then I arranged magazines.

Queensbay. Borders.

Keep seeing people I don't want to see.

And some people I don't mind seeing except for the lack of civility in acknowledging someone's existence.

Great, your mum again.

Anyways, my feet hurt.

Tomorrow, I do not work!

You Never Give Me Your Money.

Why, yes, Lerida. Perhaps I did have something to talk about. As I recall, normal conversation involves greetings followed by offering opinions on varied topics or exchanging casual banter. But of course you don't apply that to me.

Well, fuck it. It's not like you read this. Which is why I like bitching here.

Of course, people do actually read this. I just feel comfortable thinking they don't. If a lie makes you happy, why not?

Though besides that, life's fine. Kit's birthday today. Surprised him (with cake).

Blogging is slowly turning into something rote. Maybe I should go.

Tomorrow, I start work.

It's all a matter of perspective.

My mother told me long ago that it doesn't matter what happens.

The food you eat is still the same food you eat.

The grass is still green.

The air you breathe is still the air you breathed in before.

Everything is still the same.

It's just how you feel.

Well, I've got to get used to food tasting slightly of ashes.

Don't push me towards girls, fellas. There are more than enough phone numbers to go around.. I'm not feeling it tonight.

Don't feel much tonight.

I think Wayne texted me all the way from Canada.

out.

your past times consisted of the strange

the twisted and deranged

and I hate that little game you have called

crying lightning...

Heart Skipped A Beat.

Nothing quite as cathartic and enjoyable as the zen-like state of driving at 100km/h at 4:44am with the stereo loudly playing The xx.

Lets the mind run free.

Lets the spirit sort of try to soar but it ends up more like hopping up and down on one foot.

Lerida says I don't talk much about myself. I used to say a lot of things, lengthy, strange things to her. It was comfortable. It was easy. It was free of anything weighing it down. I stopped because there was only so much left to peel away before I let loose things that would just touch too deep.

Well, we don't talk like we used to. But that's fine, I'm really happy she's got Wayne, even though circumstances aren't exactly the best. Such is life.

Jason's leaving. I don't really know him that well. We only really started talking recently even though my Mandarin isn't that good and his English isn't perfect. We speak in a weird blend of Mandarin, Hokkien and English.

I nearly lost my appetite when I heard his parents didn't want him to stay in Inti.

Every September is a roller coaster ride. There are the highs, the many birthdays, the funny shit that happens because of the birthdays, the friendship and camraderie that seems to surface during this particular month and God knows what else. And then the lows, the many birthdays, the problems that can't help but stick to you even though you're out having fun.

I wish I was better with presents. I always forget the best ideas. Not that I get any good ideas.

I never really got to hold onto the best thing that ever happened to me.

There was a time I was able to express how I felt. Now I don't even know how I feel.

I don't mind unravelling if it just throws up random syllables (I do it all the time).

It's when I make sense that I start to worry.

The time is now 5:52am. earlier-

5:32am, just got off the phone with the person I truly and deeply care the most about. Might just be the last time we will speak again (maybe, maybe).

But such is the hand we are dealt as we are thrust into this world.

And so, life moves on.

Good night, or morning (wherever you are).

Heart skipped a beat
And when I caught it you were out of reach
But I'm sure, I'm sure
You've heard it before.

I have a mental list of people who were temporarily friends.

Keep changing my mind.

Basic Space.

I vaguely feel like throwing up.

This feeling has come and go repeteadly, vaguely.

I have this vague feeling that I am not working properly. Oh

Short-circuiting.

Hate the buzzing of my speakers like my phones (plural) are going to beep/ring.

I am hopeless with people.

Can't tell what they like. What they want. What to give them for special occasions.

Ants keep crawling up and around my body. I have no idea where they are coming from.

I feel like vomiting.

Just leave Basic Space by the xx on rerun.

Need to stave away the nausea.

Ugh, no one gives a fuck what you feel, Yench why the fuck do you need to tell them you fuck. GOD, journals were the blogs of the past only crazy people and serial killers have them wait isn't that the same thing lol fuck fuck

I hate you for not answering.

Bile rising in my throat.

Need. Alcohol.

I'm setting us in stone
Piece by piece, before I'm alone
Air tight, before we break
Keep it in, keep us safe

It's a pool of boiling wax
I'm getting in
Let it set
Got to seal this in
Can't adjust, Can't relearn
Got to keep what I have, preserve

Basic space, open air
Don't look away, when there's nothing there

House Lying in Ruin.

Welcome to September.

Welcome to people who don't want to talk to me.