Inspiration...Sadness...and whatever life takes
Sunday, April 24, 2005
 
Breathe

Love is a mistake,
that forgot how to cry.

cuRRent...jer
 
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
 
Pope

I am thrown into a warped elation of the election of the new pope, who happens to be nearing his octogenarian years and closer to biting the dust than ever. Better go prepare my requiem pieces soon.

______________________
Lit. Lectures and the apparent contetremps in the inital explication of "The Guide" by R.K.N...

StevenSim: Why did the father go out of the house and returned with nothing while the mother could actually come back with a bucket of milk?

The question remained mostly nebulous admist private discussion dispersed through the crowd.

And when everyone couldn't guess, the lecture hall is suddenly inundated with a profound sense of silent rummination and dissembled expectancy with twinkling eyes and an etiolated smile hanging on the side of their mouths. Everyone tries to figure and read between the lines but there seemed to be no attempts at excercising our sentiments. Ergo, after a few minutes of lecture dormancy...

Me (raises hand and adds in an almost helpful tone): Becuase..erm..the mother milked herself?


cuRRent...jer
 
Thursday, April 14, 2005
 
More

The more I think of it, the more I am to attribute it to traipsing indiscriminately and too inordinately under clothes hung out to dry - - even (still shuddering) after being bombarded by a piece of overdoused lingerie when I was innocently just thinking of something more desirable than panties.

As the saying goes, "I can't believe my luck"...

______________

Every singer should have a requiem in their repertoire. Apparently, was too tardy to learn one before the pope kicked the bucket. So much buisness lost. Not trying to be apathetic or whatsoever, but who says practicality is wrong in this sense?

______________

What better way to start the school term with the actual extant of eye candies around! Too bad they exist somewhere else other than my class, again, which leaves me wondering if this is the karma associated with being in an undilutedly insane arts class of a neigbourhood school.

I mean, look at Scott. Then, at me

hehasthemostamazingbodybutaverydesolatedcold'Iloathepeoplewith"questionablesexuality"andtheyJOLLYWELLstayfarawayfromme' attitude. The salvaging points (besides the fact that one would covet him with an inevitable delight) are that he takes the same combination (as me) and he is in the class next door. So that is one remarkable distraction expunged.

______________

Attempting to realise the benefits of mind-mapping as dicated by the prudish GP tutor with the fanciful hair. Very apparently, the propsperity of the whole excercise fails on me. It would be futile to assemble matters in coherence, uh huh? I would rather plop and drop dead in front of you than to create a mind-boggling mindmap.

______________

While I do enjoy the cammaderie of the new classmates, I feel sick to think that I am pitted, in a painful reminder of the past, against a full-fledged conservativeness of certain individuals once again. They should all die by the fashion of canteen debris falling on them.

But then, a quotidian dose of Jeremy is barely tolerable huh?



cuRRent...jer
 
pale as the white breeze, the eye cannot maketh its crease, the trough, the zennith, the power...it speaks...it reeks...Oh! how it piques my curiosity! how it delves into the nebulous truth of reality, how it

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