Friday, June 28, 2013
feels terrible. it is a most unfortunate predicament because it teaches you that 100% isnt a constant. if mary had had 2 apples at first, it gives mary 5. now 7 is the new 100% and 2 will never be enough. 3 neither. Nor 4, 5, or even 6. it's compulsory, no one gets exempted, and no one is special even though their ego would like to think so; even though they feel like the protagonists and hope, with almost, I would say, some degree of idiocy, that they would be dealt with a fate only fitting of main leads. It would be nice to think that perhaps someone finds this funny, so at least all is not for naught. Sometimes I wonder if it is blessed to have encountered it or not. it is an excruciatingly frustrating endeavor that could only be guessed to be rewarding, if not for the irony in that the reward is the knife that pierces the bubble from it's inside.

no thank you, sir, a toothpick could do the same. the knife just describes it better because it relishes drama.



Saturday, June 22, 2013
I'm bored out of my wits I'm so bored I'm going crazy oh my god somebody save me please!

It's not the kind of boredom that arises from the lack of things to do; there are always things to do. The problem is when all these activities are unappealing and are unable to dispel the stuffy, gripping feeling that threatens to suffocate my mind with each contraction. Boredom isnt stillness when it reaches this state. It is much like labour; a series of contractions after contractions, your body and the whole of your psychological being trying to push out something that had manifested in you over a period of time.

Insanity. Being quarantined because of the haze is torture. This is war. I am a prisoner of war to my weakness against confinement. Please, I surrender. Please, how can I live through this moment? I know it will not last; I only fear that I wouldnt either.

It might sound funny or ridiculous but I feel like vomiting out of boredom. It's a plague. It's poison. It's like tar that's in my body, glueing my innards into a mass in the core of my body.

I've tried music, exercise, reading, talking. The music became a droning stimulant for migraine, the exercise made me lethargic, reading made me ill, and talking was tedious when I feel so unwell.

Haze. I raise my white flag, but can anyone see it through the fogged atmosphere?

Google, you prove unhelpful when I typed the first sentence to this post in your search box. If you cannot help me, nobody else can. I am doomed. Kill me now. And no, I will not 'do craft', ' call a friend to hang out', or 'play free online games'. I also did not miss it when you added 'if any' after the second suggestion. Just so you know.

SOS.



Friday, June 7, 2013
Is it incest if an egg is laid by its hen?




Sunday, June 2, 2013
I'm reading a book about friendship, and initially I was not very keen because the narration was slow, like a blog, of sorts; full of musings and recounts, but now I see that I identify with the author.

He too, asked what I once wondered,

do friends expire?



Winner of the 1999 Whitbread First Novel Award, White City Blue by Tim Lott.


"This particular novel is about the baffling need for men to hold onto friendships that have outlived their lifespan, as a last-ditch effort to hold onto their youth. The main character here has three buddies who, every year, reenact the same pointless adventure they had once when they were young. But one year it conflicts with his girlfriend's birthday! Oh no! The choice between past and future!"

Erin W from the net summarized it as much.

It isnt an amazing read, I'd say, in terms of plot, but the value of the book is in it's ability to echo the the voices in your head and sometimes, to affirm your suspicions about the condition of Man.

Yep, that's my $0.02 worth of review.




Drakon

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