Wednesday, November 28

Lord, Not Again

I am very sure that this time, I will wait and let infatuation subside.

It's been one year since this feeling. It would be best if I do not tell him.

Saturday, November 24

My Mind At Peace, My Heart Complete

Life is wonderful right now.

Is it all that obvious that I saw the loves of my life today?

Thursday, November 22

In Hookah's Place

Blogger will have to suffice. The reasons as to why my place is not with my friends tonight (after a hearty Thanksgiving dinner) is something I'll leave for your imaginations... or the lack thereof.

As drinking becomes a recreational activity for the majority of my peers (perhaps even my own, but that's on a later note), I find the act of drunk-dialing, drunk-texting, drunk-anything, in fact, to be an entertaining complement. No, that wasn't meant to be some sarcastic comment on how I absolutely abhor alcohol (which I don't, but again... on a later note). That, ladies and gents, is an attempt at sincerity. Visualize and imprint this scene into your cerebrum.

Here you are, sitting ever so quietly in what could very well be the most comfortable sofa you have and will come across in your life. Shit, man. You aren't even one to utilize superlatives. So there, nice and snug, you sip quietly away at some warm drink--since some of you out there are obviously incredibly anal about tea and/or coffee--content with whatever Life has brought upon you thus far. Then you feel your phone vibrate in your back-left pant pocket... a feeling that is undoubtedly uncomfortable, mind you. And you hear his voice on the other line:

"Baby! I loooooooooove you, man.
Seriously. You... are awesome... and... Hm. You know, I never really
looked at the back of my palm befo--"


You hear the phone click and befriend the following dial-tone. Lovely, isn't it?

--

A minor digression from thought brings me back to Blogger with a post-Dirty-Dancing mindset.

Ah.

Wednesday, November 21

A Passionless Maiden No Longer

I feast, ladies and gents, at the table of Ms. Ayn Rand tonight.

Thursday, November 8

For No One

From a catalog that contains a boundless number of moods, I hesitate to choose. Really, which could possibly describe "infinite," "everything," and the infamous "nothing"? So here I sit, quietly, listening to the frequencies that pulse through these sterile white earphones.

And then I hear the subtle strumming of guitar strings, reminiscent of romantic Renaissance ballads.

I'll love no one and let no one love me


Never before did the chaos within this infinity, everything(ness), and nothingness that is me subside so quickly and so peacefully. There have been moments before that mirrored this, yes... but it has been a while since I felt--no, believed--that things were at last fine.

Fate, Destiny, and all of Life's other mistresses will not and cannot bother me tonight. For tonight I sleep safely in the solace of gentle strumming and sugar-coated dreaming. It's been a while since things were beautiful.

And in the meantime i have nothing to say
I'm here in vain

Monday, November 5

Will Go on a Rampage.

I swear to all pagan gods out there that I will go apeshit if another Nicholas Sparks novel evolves into another disgustingly moving movie.

I will.

Sunday, November 4

Bunkum & Balderdash, I Say!

Leave me be as I attempt to procrastinate once again.

Humans, by nature, are selfish and insatiable. And this one simple statement, as a realization, is enough to bring my sugar rush crashing down into a midnight-low of listening to saccharine ballads of Richard Marx and Phil Collins. With that, my thoughts drift to more nonsensical things.

Friday, November 2

Sex sex; sex? Sex!

[seks] n. v. adj. adv. everything is sex. There is nothing that is not sex. There was a time, as recently as the early 20th century, when sex simply denoted penetration of the Male Penis into the Female Vagina. The term quickly expanded to include other activities, like oral and anal sex. (One could have sex without producing offspring.) Sex was flexible, it accommodated more: activities between more than two people at once, between one person and him or herself, and between no people at all. It was beautiful, in a way, as all forms of physical desire and expression were allowed into sex's generous arms. Sex became a verb ("Go sex that phone for me"), an adjective ("That shirt is so sex"), and even an interrogative ("Sex?"). But at a certain point--some scholars point to the middle of the 21st century--sex had taken on too much meaning, and, hence, lost its meaning. It traced the path of so many other words in our language--computer, American, art--from Useless to Beautiful to Useless. Sex sex; sex? Sex!

--Jonathan Safran Foer
page 124 of The Future Dictionary of America

Something hilarious within a rather dull day.