January 2012
6 posts
“Back when people still had to pay for music, money served to limit and define...”
– “Pitchfork: 1995 to present”
I suppose turnabout is fair play, so it’s about time I end up being the one who gets all jumpy when I’m not the one playing the “I’ve been hurt before” card.
November 2011
2 posts
“Time takes it all, whether we want it to or not, time takes it all. Time bears...”
– Stephen King
Truth is powerful, and it is not always that we do not believe what we eagerly wish.
September 2011
2 posts
Wednesdays
Him: You're stupid. At 2, I understood the theory of relativity.
Me: What the fuck?
Him: It doesn't matter if I'm stupid. Just so long as someone is stupider than me.
Him: At 3, I was enlightened.
(pause)
I switched on the light, and I was enlightened. Along with everything else around me.
Him: At 4, I knew God was whoever I made him out to be.
Me: Who?
Him: Whoever I make him out to be, lah.
Me: Yeah, but who did you make him out to be?
Him: Megatron.
Why you should not be complaining.
From the perspective of the Distancer:
“Worry. Worry a lot. Worry some more. Pretend you’re not worried at all. Tell him you’re having a spectacular time, which you are, but worry that this would make him feel bad. Tell him you miss him every day, which you do, but worry that this would make you a stupid clingy whiner who leaves then clings and whines. Stalk him but always make it look like...
August 2011
1 post
Hunter S Thompson
It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era — the kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run… but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world....
July 2011
1 post
The seven hardest addictions to quit
cocaine
alcohol
Valium
heroin
cigarettes
fatty foods
LOVE
June 2011
7 posts
THE DESIRE TO BE LOVED IS THE LAST ILLUSION.
GIVE IT UP AND YOU WILL BE FREE
Questions to ask yourself when you are PMS-ing
Are you stupid?
Are you stupid?
ARE YOU STUPID?!!!
:/
NOLITE TE BASTARDES CARBORUNDORUM
In the mess we have figured out a logical path.
I thought about it, and it’s probably true. That if you’re used to an organised mess, you are Used To An Organised Mess. There can be as many complications as you wish there to be. It will be, at the end of the day, a fucking 森林. But it all doesn’t matter so long as you know the way out.
Nostalgicating.
This seems a bit funny after the last post. But following the discussion of Project Walrus over beer the other night in which one of us said that every girl he dates is damn chio at the point of his breaking up with them, I’ve realised that every boy I date turns into a checked shirt boy.
It’s not them, okay, get that right. It’s me.
Check This Out
I remember this shirt. I have one now, too. It doesn’t mean anything anymore; I don’t feel anything anymore. It feels good, three years later, to be able to say this. And that life is simpler; and I am happier.
dearoldlove:
I wanted to throw out half my wardrobe because everything checked reminded me of the plaid shirt you wore when you first kissed me.
“vivre heureux, vivre caché”
To live happily, live hidden.
May 2011
2 posts
“Missing people is a selfish act; you do not miss them
every second of the day,...”
“It’s tasty, so you’re happy, so you’re beautiful…”
April 2011
4 posts
Wow, Joanna Russ is dead. I remember that book (who writes literature papers on feminism when you’re 15? But we did.) — what a long time ago.
“The down drop of the blackbird,
The wing catch of arrested flight,
The stop...”
– Carl Sandburg.
i'm strong, baby
It seems trite, but this is probably what I meant. That time when you (or I, and finally) get off work early, walk to the grass and lie down (or not). I tell you I’m waiting there. We walk to Boat Quay. We drink, a beer, or three. Somehow we talk about a lot of rubbish. We laugh. We’re among friends. You ask me about Queen’s Day. I remember, you asked me to go to Ireland with...
“Not sleeping?” I asked.
I typed the words out onto a familiar screen. It was a familiar question, made familiar by years of repetition. The same activity. The same reasons. I thought he would say, “I’m working,” just like all the million rest of us, struggling not to drown in a pool of work. Or school. It was all the same, late nights spent in a dreary building,...
March 2011
4 posts
haru haru
Work. Work, and work somemore. It takes your mind off fucking everything and anything. And anyone.
coffee spoons
The realisation came suddenly, that your life would be measured in windows. We were drinking somewhere, as we always were. It was a Friday night. Things were buzzing. The music thumped. By the time you made partner, you’d have only one wall in your office.
“That, I think, is the trouble with turning 30. In the decade between when I...”
– The New York Times.
How true.
“If you take a book with you on a journey, … an odd thing happens: The book begins collecting your memories. And forever after you have only to open that book to be back where you first read it. It will all come into your mind with the very first words: the sights you saw in that place, what it smelled like, the ice cream you ate while you were reading it… yes, books are like flypaper —...
February 2011
5 posts
漂泊人生
其实爱情是有时间性的。
认识的太早或者太晚，结果都不行。
如果我在另一个时间和空间先认识她，这个故事的结局就可能不一样。
（我们为什么不能像以前那样？)
"There's only things, Blackie."
The girl who reads knows about real people. She knows about real people as well as she knows how an illustrated cupcake tastes like. She learns about people through the pages thinking she will know how to deal with them better when they appear as real bodies. There are liars, there are cheats. There are princes on white horses who shine. The girl who reads knows life is not as easy as that. The...
Dust in the wind.
Something stopped. Something felt empty. There was a pregnant pause, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of everything. The surroundings swirled benignly around, oblivious. Uncaring, maybe. Either way, it was going to be a tragedy. Somebody was going to get hurt. Real bad. We always say we’ll fight to the end. Till the war is over, and the arms are laid down. After all of it, just an...
In a minute there is time
… for decisions and revisions,
which a minute will reverse.
January 2011
16 posts
Thalidomide.
La mort, c’est la mort. Mais l’amour, c’est l’amour. La mort, c’est seulement la mort. Mais l’amour, c’est l’amour.
(Death is death. But love is love. Death is only death. But love is love.)
“If I were thinking clearly, Leonard, I would tell you that I wrestle alone in...”
– Always, the hours.
I trusted you. But I guess it was never really mutual, either way, both ways.
The fireworks over liberty explode in the heat.
He told me to find happiness in simpler things; what is love and why do we need it? He told me to subscribe to a less demanding world view that required less of love and more of everything else, because there was so much else in this world to explore. I re-read it; it was still saved in my email. And he too, realised; that to say that one has changed imperceptibly but fatally is merely an excuse....
How old was I when I first heard this? The dice...
6am thoughts.
Sometimes I feel like life is one big examination. Someone is always waiting to judge. To give you marks, tell you how well you scored. There are standards. There are lines you cannot cross. Sometimes you pass, sometimes you fail. You will never know till the results come out. And no matter how prepared you think you are, you never will be.
You play. You win. You play. You lose. The dice keeps...
“What is man without secrets? Without thoughts and wishes that only he, he alone,...”
– Pascal Mercier, Night Train to Lisbon.
“We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and — in spite of True Romance...”
– Hunter S. Thompson (via Ruizi)
(My God he hit the nail right on the head.)
“In times of greatest stress, which are not necessarily those of the greatest...”
– Simone Weil, The Need for Roots.
Simple pleasures.
Few things are better than —
(1) Coffee
(2) Cool weather
(3) NOTHING TO DO.
Well: maybe all of the above, maybe love.
“Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength...”
– Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Ulysses.
Time to do some yoga.
Since I’ve gotten out of my bed, I’ve —
(1) Read the Dining & Wine section of the New York Times;
(2) Read the NYT movie review for The Tourist (only after I watched it yesterday);
(3) Looked up recipes for (a) Cheddar Beer Soup, (b) Mexican Chili, (c) Beef Stew, meanwhile surfing a dozen food blogs and reading random articles on food;
(4) Discovered the hidden subterranean...
正是让这爱试出真与假
让晚风轻轻吹送了落霞 我已习惯每个傍晚去想她 在远方的她 此刻可知道 这段情在我心 始终记挂
The beautiful and the damned.
The breathless idyl of their engagement gave way, at first, to the intense romance of the more passionate relationship. The breathless idyl left them, fled on to other lovers; they looked around one day and it was gone, how they scarcely knew. Had either of them lost the other in the days of the idyl, the love lost would have been ever to the loser that dim desire of fulfilment which stands back...