Brainfarts
Sunday, August 19
I know, I haven’t posted anything more than your average crap for more than two months now, and this isn’t any better. In fact I think this one would stink more than all the garbage I’ve ever thrown in here, but that’s the whole point of creating this “blog” in the first place isn’t it? Right? Or is it?
It’s been over a year since I started this dump, and I’ve been wondering why exactly I started this dump, or to be more precise, why I pushed through stinking up this place with all sorts of sh*t, and why I should continue doing so for another 365.5 days.
This is the primary reason why I’ve been so silent these past few weeks. In the middle of typing and deleting what I typed, trying futilely to overcome the first few sentences of writer’s block. Staring at that damned blinking cursor, it was as if the cursor was mocking me, laughing maniacally every time I hit backspace to land back to square one. In the midst of all this mental turmoil, I begin to ask myself what exactly is the point of writing all my gibberish? And when I’ve finally convinced myself somehow that I should carry on, I’ve already forgotten what I was writing about. That’s what has been happening for the last 6 months. An idea starts to burn in my head, but then the blank paper wins over my pen, and the idea ends up as brainfart, stinking up my mind for a few measly seconds until a breeze comes along and wipes out that stench.
It’s the worst feeling a writer, or any person for that matter, could possibly experience, getting a glimpse of something which you can never have. A moment of being temporarily uplifted by something or someone only to find out that it was just to elevate you just enough to bring you down.
Labels: doldrums
thrown by A.Paul @ 12:34,
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Disconnect and Self-destruct one bullet at a time
Saturday, June 30
I’m all spent and worn out, like a wad of candle wax lying where a candle was a just a few hours before. And to top it all off, volatile ideas once more formed in my mind, like mists of smoke dancing to the tune of seduction, only to vanish before I even got the chance to stain the paper with my mind.
The past week has easily been a hell week for me, not because of academics(although I’d like to point out just how surprisingly heavy this sem’s load is compared to last year), but because of too much free time. Not exactly free time, wasted time to be more precise, that stemmed from my non-existent time management skills. And it was during those idle ill-wasted hours that my mind started to rot.
The past week now just seems distant and blurry, as if the events in my life were just some part of a movie I’m subserviently watching. All I remember is being pissed off at one thing or another, and then just silence and emptiness after all the hatred and rage has chewed up and burnt up my insides. At one point, I think I was suicidal, but there was no bitterness or resignation, just the dull ache of the afterimage of these emotions. It wasn’t about not being able to withstand the pressures of life, in fact it seemed that life has lost its hassles, and it was just clear that death is inevitable, and what happens between birth and death is simply insignificant. So why don’t we just speed things up?
I dunno what’s wrong with me...
It might as well be thinking that something’s wrong with me.
thrown by A.Paul @ 00:09,
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The Epitome of Uncertainty and Incoherence
Friday, June 8
I wish I had killed someone, or committed some other heinous a long time ago.
The whisper that echoes through my mind as I picture myself blowing a cake, because in few minutes, I would cease to be a kid and I would be tried and punished to the fullest extent of the Law. By midnight, I would officially be an adult citizen.
18 years, and I'm still wobbling in my baby legs, walking down a path that leads to nowhere, groping desperately for purpose in this meaningless existence. Nearly two decades have past, but they have lost their meaning, if they ever had a meaning. It was as if all this time I've been sleeping, occasionally waking up only to find out that the calendar has a new number on it. And each time trying to look back but only see a recurring dream:
A dream of a man lying prostrate on the ground, as everything around him zooms by, whirling, dancing, evolving, and dying. The world passes by in the blink of an eye, and in the end is just an old cobblestone country road, extending into the horizon. The road was straight, defined, and cleared. And at the end of the road was the warm promise of light, seductive, enticing, and elusive. But now that he has reached the line where the horizon was, he sees nothing but dull grey skies blocking out the sun, covering the road in long deep shadows, shadows of a man distant yet unsettingly and disturbingly, familiar.
So here I am lying down on what could be my deathbed, trying to contemplate on the last minutes of my life. Should I put an end to it all now, hold this life in my hands and choke it, strangle it, and castrate it? Or wait another year, a decade, or even a century for those last few minutes, wait for the right time to hear the sound of her wings, and finally recieve her gift, or the high cost of living? Neither, because now is not the right time.
For now, I'll live on, looking forward to that day. Living a life, that would someday, be worth ending at last.
Labels: doldrums, Hapi Bday, suicidal
thrown by A.Paul @ 23:53,
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Ashen Clouds
Wednesday, June 6
Beneath this ceiling of gray, are the remains of what was once a man. A man who chose to thread a path of gravel and granite, to desensitize himself to and with the cold embrace of stone. He forged a mask from the minute pieces of a shattered mirror, each piece a window to a specific persona concealed by the ghoul clothed in the semblance of flesh, and each persona more distant than the last yet disturbingly familiar.
And thus an exoskeleton was formed, with the sole purpose of damming the potent concoction of emotions swirling about. But the time came, and soon thereafter the dam defeated its purpose, imploding everything inside of it in a brilliant flash of darkness.
Now the statue lays in ruins, crumbling away in the hollow gales of a silent storm.
**image snatched from Goha7777**
Labels: doldrums, uninspired
thrown by A.Paul @ 00:08,
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Big Sh*t hits the Proverbial Fan
Saturday, April 14
It just dawned on me recently how deep I got myself in sh*t. The full impact of what I've done, what I'm about to do, and what I hope to do, has just hit me. The past two weeks were a blur, and I don't remember much except for bed cramps and butt-aches (from either lying down or sitting down for indefinitely long periods), T-shirts drenched in sweat, and the garbage bin overflowing with junk food refuse.
I enlisted----- enrolled, for Math 54 this summer and in approximately 56 hours I would experience firsthand the wrath of the killer math with the highest "mortality rate". I'm not really sure why I took it, but I think I must have thought it best to just bow my head and just plow straight through to the best I can without breaking my neck. I planned to do some advance readings but the most time I spent with my Leithold was about 15 minutes, trying to figure out the application of the definite integral to the center of mass of an object, but I stopped halfway through moments of mass and just went on with my Bleach marathon. So much for advance reading and stock knowledge....
Now I must continue on resisting the ringing bells of the dreamworld, to successfully reset my biological clock.
Labels: doldrums
thrown by A.Paul @ 01:22,
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