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to go into the details of things would make for banal reading, so the best way to sum up my saturday would be with just two words - WE ROCK. packs of nicotine (0.9, 1.1, 1.2), hundreds of bowling pins, four wheels, kick-ass cruise music and impromptu acapellas by the bays of this nation's most expensive condominiums.
i can't write any more without getting sappy about those klowns so here's how i'll end.
you know i love you right?
ps - updated the posse. latest to the circle is rehan, a fellow cryptic writer. fabs officially closed, and nisa's shifted.
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the logic of shame
i wish to return to that place which spurned the proses off my fingers, but i fear that place may be too far from me right now. where i was, was almost the edge of reason (as cliched and overrated as it may sound). but it allowed me to submerse into a depth of myself, which brought me into such isolation that ferocitas truly became my only friend. these days i've re-arrived into the exact state of normalcy i once loathed. and that in turn has transported me back into a dullness of existence. i fear the repulsion of my almshouse and the normalcy of my being, refusals to exist on the same plane... and should i sacrifice one for the other? and if i cannot arrive into an assentment, a compromise of sorts, i know i would be too much a coward, too ashamed to give this plane up for the ferocitas i am in love with. and it disappoints me becos i miss it so very much.
it has taken me a full week and an intended email, to duly sit down and spin this. i hope she answers when i knock. oh god knows,... how i knock.
ps - youngest baby of the new-age not individually dissimilar conglomeration of misfits - dian. grace her pastures.
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tuesday august 13th 1841 hours
it is a weekday night and i feel like falling into the merry-makers, because i predict this night to be deliberatively isolate for me. it is not a good feeling. i know whose child it is but i shall not debate its mother. not today. perhaps not anymore. she should have been exhausted weeks ago.
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wednesday august 14th 0537 hours
an eventuality of chemistry
it is a stirring, a knocking on the gates this proceeding need to look at you, to be physically near you as we sit miles apart just sharing, spilling thoughts, enticing covetings, wrapping words around each other. so let my pockets fill already. part of me hankers for your skin.
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because quite simply i had a choice. because i made it. because i don't owe you an explanation. because i am nomad. because i come and go. because the hypocrisy was killing me. because i'm not the same girl you knew. because my writing means more to me than you'd ever fathomed possible. because i don't care to be understood.
this. because i am sorry. because i apologise. because i owe you too much, and because i know it.
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morpheus robbed me of sleep the entire weekend. then vacillation ruled my early morning, so that i might roll around in bed, minutes which waltzed into hours. now i sit here with peanuts to do. the boss, the bestfriend and the merry-makers have given up. thanks morpheus, you mythical asshole.
tuesday august 20th
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a testament to my ennui.
Which Sleater-Kinney Girl
Are You?
You are natural and down-to-earth,
what you see is what you get.
You don't pull any punches, and your honesty and integrety shine
through in every thing you do. People value your straightforward
manner and mellow attitude.
Take
the "Which Empowered Female Artist Are You" Quiz
some people might
beg to differ.
you are the second oldest. you're
prim, proper and poised.
you spent hours in front of the mirror trying to maintain your appearance
but it didn't work because you attempted suicide by sticking your head
in an oven
however, you didn't die... you were saved, a month later however...
sleeping pills
what
lisbon girl are you?
(brought you by april)
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thursday august 22nd 0240 hours
it hurt to feel you grow cold in my palm. my choices are reverberating in my ear, crawling up my arm, clawing beneath. i don't do justice to apology.
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most of what i had needed to transpire has already been painted on email. it was tempting to paste its digital mass here, but i figure i owe it to you to keep it indefinitely personal. it was written for you. and it would've made a pretty entry. but today and all days, it is a pretty entry, for you.
on the way home in the train, i read what must probably be (subjective, of course) one of the best pieces of writing (i've encountered at least, which ashamedly, isn't much). i've hated it from its incipience to my eyes because it is dark, brooding, sick and morose. but one of its chapters spoke to me. it was cryptic, as only hardin can be but the ideas and the philosophies were bewitching (and i have endy to thank for this, philosophy being the last subject of discursion before our parting, which set a melody for my occupancy on the sub). on normal mode, a book might hold 15-20 minutes, at a stretch, of my attention in any moving capsule. back then (on my return journey this morning) my poor brain had been dispossessed of morpheus' company for a good 17 hours, and still this chapter locked it on overdrive. when it is re-energized (my brain that is), i shall seek to stand on the planes of hardin's abstraction, and vehemently induce a dissension. any dissension.
that is my mission of the day.
identifying with my body, i am unable to die; confined to existence, i am prevented from living. - Definitions for the Dungeon, Rob Hardin
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a friend of a friend's went down on a knee a few days ago and made the plunge. these days i think the world is one divide into halves. one side of the bank sits the happy campers who've found each other, and the other houses all the rest of us.
that said i'm happy for him really, but i'd be lying if i didn't admit to my envy - that one sin spacey died for in se7en. i wish i had better things to think about, but my personal life has been a series of seeks and misses. still i learn.
question is, how much more learning?
i'm turning 22, and what have i for show? an ideal for skepticism, cause i'm still trapped in cages of idealism. oh grow up already ana.
bon voyage to k, sha and fardi. try not to rip each other too much. kidding... really, have a smashing time.
My insulting name
is Fart in a jamjar Jambrain!
What's
yours?
My insulting name
is Fannyears Pusjuice!
What's
yours?
cos i've got too much time on my hands.
ps - i'll hafta postpone the proper linking of all updates. i gotta scoot in 45 minutes. and you know that's crazy for a woman.
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just in to state for the record that i've fixed what should usually be fixed by now. not that anyone would care. it would be hard to digest anyone could be as anal as i.
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tuesday august 27th 0826 hours
if you are muslim, then you should know that as muslim, you should fast come ramadhan. if you're female and muslim, then you should know all about the paybacks. so today mama's trying to get me to return one miserable day. i've had my periods since 12. it's been 10 years of accumulative doublets, triplets, quadruplets of days to which i owe the supreme, omniscient One. but today, she's trying to get me to return, one.
i'm waiting for her to drift into lalaland, so that i can fix breakfast. the last time she tried to make me return one, i cheated and had spaghetti i think. then spilt some soup down the front of my (and i emphasise) white tee. i had to come home hugging my sweater.
i think it is a rule of nature that all living organism carrying offspring will produce it in complete opposing polarities to herself.
wednesday august 28th
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happy 24th to endy. for the fourth time this year, i'm too broke to get someone a tangible birthday due (i have that many friends). sides, what would endy possibly want that i can afford?
things
endy wants that ana can't afford
1) that car he always seems to have spotted every 2.5 hours on the road
but she can't see because she's short-sighted and she can't recall because
she never pays that much attention
2) a university degree purchasable in USD
3) a pair of 8-gajillion-kazillion-fafillion-palillion stuntpuller roller
blades
4) million dollar smiles off HRC babes
5) straight hair!!
6) outties, not innies (HAHAHAHA)
7) heather graham
8) austin powers
9) a more musically inclined ribcage, with a more definable A minor and
B flat
10) all the bitching songs of the world
things ana
CAN afford
1) this entry
uhm, that's it for this list.
friday august 30th
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saturday august 31st 0027 hours
i can't believe i gave up the temple of sound to sit in for an assignment. this is tortorous. i'm so miserable i feel nauseated.
on a lighter note, we all had the world's most sinful chocolate cake - NYDC's boo boo. endy, in all his sweetness (birthdays subdue him apparently), shared his birthday cake, birthday song and birthday cake-cutting with little old me. so my cake had two huge candles, two small ones and two small perforations, signatures of has-been candles.
sha and k got me a shawl from tioman and it's gorgeous. thank you my luvlies. i love shawls. i jus don't know how to wear em.
i still feel like crying.
0157 hours
Primary
Ability:
Farseeker
Farseekers possess the ability to communicate over great distances via
telepathy. They are great friends who know when they're needed, and seem
to be able to detect others thoughts.
Secondary
Ability:
Empath
Empaths posess the
ability to feel the emotions of others. They are gentle people, who encourage
and nurture others. They percieve the world with their hearts and not
with their minds. Empaths make great friends because they understand people.
i was sitting outside for nearly an hour, dragging cigarette after cigarette, just thinking about him. i dreamt about him again, my lost love. still eludes me why.
post endy's birthday gathering we were sitting around getting rowdy with a deck of cards. and then we mellowed and started playing the game of chance. one of them included the supreme behest of coincidence, which told the stories of relationships. we made it all happen, i know that. things we already knew. the cards merely a confirmation, if at all you could attach convictions to their accuracy (chance and coincidences, remember?).
that was probably why he was morpheus' delivery. but i do miss him. and it is more than a year of regrets that i keep warm in the folds of this heart.
so i just sat there, rocking myself with nicotine and cold, cold palms. she will never be me. but between the two of us, she's the one he's seated next, slapping the grooves on his bass.
it's always times like these when i think of you and i wonder if you ever think of me. cause everything's so wrong and i don't belong living in your precious memory. - vanessa carlton
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