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fodder

the pebbles you've arranged,
in the sand they're strange.
they speak to me like constellations,
as we lie here.

archives

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  • December 2006
  • January 2007


    • Monday, December 18, 2006

    The Rain Is Not Helping

    The pitter-patter sounds and howling of the winds only serve to amplify the jarring noises caused by the clutter in my head, it's like playing heavy, heavy metal above techno. The rapid beats make me wanna go somewhere fast but the bass shuts off all signals for any directions. No, I am not depressed. Neither am I in one of those angsty moods. It's just the endless questions again. For the past 85 minutes, I've been clicking and typing away at my MacBook, with the original intention to download some underground music to listen to for a change but Limewire's connection speed is terribly sorry. So, I attempted to create a Facebook account while listening to Band Of Horses sing about The Funeral, only to be reminded of how fragmented my identity becomes when I make myself known as Gwen instead of Yiting. On top of that, realise how I'm always too slow in utilizing these "socializing tools" when they are still all the rage. The pain of taking the screen face-on is just too much to bear, so it's never that but some pseudo-artistic angle employed as a clever but banal disguise. It's not that I'm pessimistic-ally stubborn all the time; I do try but not everyone has the heart to lie to themselves. Those who are able to shouldn't be condemned, though I still can't decide if they should be given a standing ovation or not. My eyelids were drooping just ten short minutes ago but with my iTunes gone one complete round in 'Recently Added', Gnarls Barkley tells me they are not anymore and I'm going Crazy very soon. Any hope of waking up early for a morning run tomorrow has already vanished and been replaced by yet another case of ill discipline wreaking havoc in my life.

    OH MY GOD.

    22:46

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