The Eulogy of My Uncaring; The Elegy of My Apathy

Thursday, March 29, 2007

witness, the machine-man. devoid of passion, stripped of feelings, naught but cold hard metal given the steel mind of cold mechanical rigidity. no heart, no capability for tears, nothing but cold hard movement of its unfeeling arms. he exists forever in his realm of black and white and grey, the never-ending film of monotony and unfeeling

in a world of swirling colour, sound and laughter he goes about his usual proceedings, unheeding, ignorant, nonchalant. the dancing pastelles of colour can never enter his realm, never will his blandness be polluted by the onset of colour. his steel body bears no ears for music and laughter; bears only eyes that take in mere image and movement but never the blatant beauty of images around; his cold metal hands grasp but never feel, touch but the machine-man is never touched

alas, what cold mind shaped him? was it a cold mind or cold hands that gave him his pitiful existence? was it instead a warm, passionate mind that dreamed of him, and desired to make him, but it was those mindless hands, unthinking on their own, that failed the passion of the mind,giving birth to a being that mimics the coldness and mindlessness of the hands? or did the machine-man ever once own a fluttering, beating, very alive heart? then was it the coldness of the things around him that made him escape into a solid cocoon of metal,, his private sanctuary of cold steel?

save the machine-man, else the steel around him gets colder than ever, else his hands totally are devoid of the memory of warm touch, else his existence is merely and simply explained by the cruel mechanisms that set him into unceasing, unthinking motion, a mindless clockwork that mocks the things around him that he never really does see

Thoughts Became Words At 8:13 PM

Thursday, March 22, 2007

still dope after so long hahahaa

Thoughts Became Words At 10:29 PM

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Slow Dancing In A Burning Room

It's not a silly little moment,
It's not the storm before the calm.
This is the deep and dying breath of
This love that we've been working on.

Can't seem to hold you like I want to
So I can feel you in my arms.
Nobody's gonna come and save you,
We pulled too many false alarms.

We're going down,
And you can see it too.
We're going down,
And you know that we're doomed.
My dear,
We're slow dancing in a burning room.

I was the one you always dreamed of,
You were the one I tried to draw.
How dare you say it's nothing to me?
Baby, you're the only light I ever saw.

I'll make the most of all the sadness,
You'll be a bitch because you can.
You try to hit me just to hurt me
So you leave me feeling dirty
Because you can't understand.

We're going down,
And you can see it too.
We're going down,
And you know that we're doomed.
My dear,
We're slow dancing in a burning room.

Go cry about it - why don't you?
Go cry about it - why don't you?
Go cry about it - why don't you?

My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room,
Burning room,
Burning room,
Burning room,
Burning room.

Don't you think we oughta know by now?
Don't you think we shoulda learned somehow?
Don't you think we oughta know by now?
Don't you think we shoulda learned somehow?
Don't you think we oughta know by now?
Don't you think we shoulda learned somehow?
Don't you think we shoulda learned somehow?
Don't you think we shoulda learned somehow?
Don't you think we shoulda learned somehow?
Don't you think we shoulda learned somehow?

Thoughts Became Words At 10:23 PM

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

beauty comes in various forms and manners. like its symbolic objects the butterfly and the flower, it has a myriad of facades, like a chiobu hydra of 12 chio heads.

but i feel true beauty is subtle beauty. maybe its just me, beauty is only in the eye of the beholder, but i got two eyes so maybe what i feel is true hahahahaa

its always how when you discover something beautiful in something seemingly mediocre that makes it so utterly chio. its that tiny sparkle in the diamond that gives it its beauty, and not really its shape or size. its the wonder that something so beautiful can exist, apparently hidden, in something that never would occur to you to be something of beauty.

thats the reason why normal people will always fall in love with the girl who appears to be totally normal and average to most people, but also is one who has some particular attirbute that unexplainingly makes her utterly chio to the max. thats the reason normal people only lust after, not love, those sex kittens with make up jewellery and peekaboo clothes. so next time you omg at paris hilton and shout wth she is totally chio, think again. is it beauty or is it sex appeal? they are different. one is pure white light, one is smoke clouding the light. if you ask me, i feel teresa of campus superstar is chioer than paris hilton hahahahaaa

Be A You, Thank You. Be-A-U-TY. Its the plain jane that made maroon5 make Songs About Jane. yes, of course one can always continue to put makeup. but dun let it be your mask. by all means wear revealing clothes (of course HAHA) but dun let your nearspillingover breasts eclipse the sun in your eyes. go ahead and carry designer goods, but dun overdo it, dun let Pradas and Tiffanys and AgnesBs and Chanels simultaneously flood all over you like how the icons of the LV Monogram flood over the handbag.

in JC it was the Nike/Adidas/Puma/NewUrbanMale/VonDutch/FleshImp* (* Delete where applicable) sportbag-toting girls in XS skirts with ProjectRunaway struts and oscillating pigus. in Uni it will be the girls who walk around campus clad 24/7 in expensive shits, and of course, their lipstick. they would rather expose their thighs and breasts then let their shy virgin maiden naked lips be seen Godiva-like lipstick-less bared in the open and shudder to think about www.voyeuristicspycamvideosofnakedwetpinklipsinschool.com. of course go ahead and befriend these people, command and conquer, the fortress gates are wide open, penetrate them and let loose your minions. but of course always never ever neglect and overlook that ordinary and simple girl in that corner quietly waiting for you

Thoughts Became Words At 8:58 PM

Monday, March 12, 2007

behold us, for we are all but fishermen. we stand side by side in one long and seemingly neverending line, all facing the ocean, the sky, and the eversofaraway horizon right in between

all of us have our lines cast out into the sea, hoping for that elusive tug of the line, that sudden feeling of hope, and the frantic pulling follows. some of us will be contented with the small fish that turn up, and walk away smiling. some of us will continue to pursue bigger and bigger fish, no matter the weather and the aching in the legs.

but all the while all we see is the infinite expanse of blue water and blue sky with smears of white here and there; and of course, the one thin silver line that represents all your hopes and dreams and motivation and seemingly your purpose of your existence there at the seaside.

but alas, have you ever spared a sideways glance at the countless other fishermen just by your side? have you ever taken your mind off cold, flopping fish and for once realized the warm, beating heart in all those other fishermen? do you see anything other than fish there? (fishermen - fish = ermen so mayeb will keep seeing erman whatever that is tho)

when the wind blows, your line strays, and tangles up with the line next to you. do you shout chaocheebyepigujuicewithaddednineessentialvitaminsandminerals over the vast ocean? do you try to push him to feed the fish to punish him for hindering your progress? or do you smile and laugh, and appreciate that that person is there next to you, sharing with you similar hopes and dreams? cant you sit down and talk to him about fish instead?

and will you be satisfied if you fished up a gyarados? for the heart knows desire not unlike the ocean; it knows no bounds. and likewise your heart should see itself in the ocean: the ocean is infinite, and the fish are countless. after one big fish, you can peel off some meat from it to fish for the next big one; but no matter how much and how long you try, you can never have all the fishes in the sea. you can never have enough of fishes.

but what can you do with your ocean-like infinite-volume heart then? there is but one thing that can fill up your heart, and that is love, companionship. and yes, there are a million other fishermen out there, but all it takes is the love from the one who has always been there by your side to fill up your heart, for what best to fill up something infinite than something also infinite?

Thoughts Became Words At 7:16 PM

Saturday, March 10, 2007

Thoughts Became Words At 2:48 PM

Friday, March 02, 2007

the clown is one of the saddest ever persons ever. though he is a bringer of laughter, but have you ever thought of everything beneath the make-up and the deliberately clumsy blunders

only when he wears his white powder makeup and puts on his red nose does people take note of him. only when he does stupid things does people laugh and smile, but actually all these is directed at him, laughing at his stupid clumsiness. people only know him as a clown, not a real person. take away the colorful baggy clothes, makeup and jokes and people cannot imagine what lies underneath. beneath the flabby exterior lies nothing, perhaps

when theres no more clown outfit, people no longer take notice of him. unappreciated, seldom acknowleged and always taken for granted. he needs the clown facade to survive, but hates it to the core, for when he is the clown he, really, is indeed a clown. when people know him as a clown, and he hates being a clown, does he hate himself, or just the facade? take away the clown, is there nothing left to hate then?

the clown gives much laughter and joy, but who is to give the same to him? who is willing enough to be the clown's clown? if so, even that person just another sad clown? can clowns entertain each other? then wont they be just laughing at each other's stupidness , and in the end be laughing at themselves?

after the show, after the curtains drop and the lights go out, the audience disperses, and not much will be said of the clown come tomorrow. he is the giver of the moment, drowning in the ironic euphoria of people appreciating him when he is not really being himself. he gives but never receives, for the makeup is all but a shield, underneath is pure yearning and complete sorrow

so spare a thought for nemo the clownfish hahahaha

Thoughts Became Words At 9:28 PM

Thursday, March 01, 2007

Lulu was a prostitute, but she didn't want her grandma to know. One day, the police raided a whole group of prostitutes at a sex party in a hotel, and Lulu was among them. The police took them outside and had all the prostitutes line up along the driveway when suddenly, Lulu's grandma came by and saw her granddaughter. Grandma asked, "Why are you standing in line here, dear?" Not willing to let her grandmother know the truth, Lulu told her grandmother that the policemen were there passing out free oranges and she was just lining up for some. "Why, that's awfully nice of them. I think I'll get some for myself," and she proceeded to the back of the line. A policeman was going down the line asking for information from all of the prostitutes. When he got to Grandma, he was bewildered ! and exclaimed "Wow, still going at it at your age? How do you do it? " "I just take my dentures out, rip the skin back and suck them dry.".. The policeman fainted.

Thoughts Became Words At 7:37 PM