Saturday, June 02, 2007
Eureka! not.
Routine. Mundane. Jaded. Boring. Tiresome. Enough.
Now, all, it's time to wake up.
I've been in a deep slumber for 20 years or less. Probably less. I'm not feeling this way all the time. So i'll pull out the snooze button and make the alarm work for it's high time i get myself up and about. Holidays are always detrimental to my physical, mental and spiritual wellbeing. And what a pleasant revelation that i'm starting work on June the Eighteenth! Holidays, begone. Lazy days, off with your head. Yeah, i know. Some revelation.
It's Four in the Morning, says Gwen Stefani, and the desktop clock. What happened to all the things i intend to share with you on this blog? They're all still on my notebook. I hope they don't find comfort and thus seek permanence on paper. This blog would be of insignificant use then.
Maybe i've stopped thinking years back, where i've stopped writing. When ideas hit you hard, you don't recoil and tend to the pain. Instead, you pounce on them as if their rarity is incomparable to that of naturally coloured crystallised carbon. I'd trade a raw non-conflict diamond for a treasure chest of milked ideas. But hell, diamonds can be synthesised. Inspirations can't. That's the problem. I'm running dry. Even topic conversations with my favourite man are bordering on juvenility, courtesy of yours truly. The mind, my mind at least, is a plateau. WHY, screams the shallow one. Echoes refuse to return, out of shame.
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fara // 03:38
Eureka! not.
Routine. Mundane. Jaded. Boring. Tiresome. Enough.
Now, all, it's time to wake up.
I've been in a deep slumber for 20 years or less. Probably less. I'm not feeling this way all the time. So i'll pull out the snooze button and make the alarm work for it's high time i get myself up and about. Holidays are always detrimental to my physical, mental and spiritual wellbeing. And what a pleasant revelation that i'm starting work on June the Eighteenth! Holidays, begone. Lazy days, off with your head. Yeah, i know. Some revelation.
It's Four in the Morning, says Gwen Stefani, and the desktop clock. What happened to all the things i intend to share with you on this blog? They're all still on my notebook. I hope they don't find comfort and thus seek permanence on paper. This blog would be of insignificant use then.
Maybe i've stopped thinking years back, where i've stopped writing. When ideas hit you hard, you don't recoil and tend to the pain. Instead, you pounce on them as if their rarity is incomparable to that of naturally coloured crystallised carbon. I'd trade a raw non-conflict diamond for a treasure chest of milked ideas. But hell, diamonds can be synthesised. Inspirations can't. That's the problem. I'm running dry. Even topic conversations with my favourite man are bordering on juvenility, courtesy of yours truly. The mind, my mind at least, is a plateau. WHY, screams the shallow one. Echoes refuse to return, out of shame.
fara // 03:38
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♥ Fara. Forever20. Nurse. In the pursuit of kidnapping Happy.
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