the streets are laden with the choices we make, amidst the scatter of options where we choose to go. in some corners we find ourselves waiting to reach the other block. and we pick up a few lessons along the way of how the lamps will signal to green when the cars allow you to proceed, and how each step is taken with a moment’s breath of care.
we hesitate to ponder in the midst of bustle, that the warm kiss of a sun setting on your face can somehow offset the bitterness of frozen fingers clenched tightly into a palmed fist.
cars pass by, the birds pitter patter, and it seems like hardly anyone cares.
who am i?
long day, long week, but i’m happy as long as the weekends are guaranteed to come. there are days when i wish i was young enough to know everything, that i held the power to deduce everything into manageable chunks as i did in the broken heydays of youth. now it’s muddled by the idioms of context, syntax, and the fact that you can argue the world is flat and prove it, too.
i guess that’s why i lost interest in politics, i have washy social morals, and i’m not surprised that i generally have stopped exercising a strong opinion on several debatable issues. what has piqued my interest instead are the butterflies in the stomach, the flutter of images vaguely strange yet familiar, the elecricity of the moment when listening to music. the mystery of light and moon shine, the alteration of perspectives, the escape from the monotony of routine.
the possibility that everyday is christmas, halloween, and valentine’s, all rolled into one.
hoppy v-day, boys and girls! :”>
you really just have to, count your blessings. :)
our lives are ordinary, to the extent that we structure and embrace the predetermined tasks of the next day. i’m scared of not allowing myself to discover the hidden pleasure of spontaneity, especially since a growing laundry list of responsibilities weigh heavier on the shoulders as the years come and go.
instead of throwing myself at the mercy of this romanticised idea of living life, i’ve decided on a slightly structured path that has enough airholes and branches to swing from time to time. so far, so good… unless i’m doing a good job of convincing myself that i’m doing the right thing.
after all, everything can only come at you one second at a time.
holy cow, batman! i can’t wait for coachella! my knees are a-shakin’!
wouldn’t it be good to fast forward to the good times? but living too fast, won’t let you appreciate the details that life affords when you soak it in slowly. fast forward may not always be an option, but rewind and playback will always be. it’s always a good pace, if you let things be.
yummy butterfly soup! honking peacocks! stolen daffodils and caterpillar eggs! chalk one up for awesome possum weekends! :D
i gained six pounds this weekend. but i suspect, that i’ll unload a real big one tomorrow morning.
that’ll be a story to tell. the tale of the six-pounder!
back in the audit room. ready for war. the early bird gets the worm! but when the bird dies it rots and the other worms will exact revenge. which brings me to my point- that i have none whatsoever.
i’m just about to leave work. for a few simple tasks that i figure shouldn’t take an exorbitant amount of time, i’m still baffled at the complexity of the process. am i delving into too much detail? am i not properly allocating my time to the important tasks at hand? oh, boy. can’t wait for the weekend…
my eyelids are heavy with promises of 8-hour slumber, from a long restless day of daydreaming what remains outside each moment’s sphere of consciousness. clouds roll by languidly across the bent horizon, while the rest of the world is entrapped with unrelentless bouts of trivial pursuit. earning more money, spending more money, flexing your muscle across the rat race landscape. for those that have lost touch of who they are, will the freedom of sleep give meaning to their lives?
i haven’t been writing as much lately. what bothers me is the lack of introspect that i’ve managed to muster, and the recurring themes of pimp-my-hamster-wheel and general romanticism with the freedom of living your life doused with music, good photography, and people that you really care about. yet the cogs keep the wheel turning, allowing you to surrender your freedoms as far as you’d define it to be. yet ironically, we all eventually acquiesce to sleep. and what happens… is a mystery. anything you could muster it to be.
perhaps it’s no wonder that you close your eyes when you kiss, that you close your eyes to imagine.. that you close your eyes to dream. perhaps none of this is a wonder, after all.
just remember to close your eyes.
i am in dire need to drop off the kids, but the only pool i’d go to is the one at my house. and that’s an hour and a half drive. caveats of falling in love with the bidet..
i just farted and it smells like korean bbq.
i’ve never seen so much meat in my life.. except when i was in brasil.
los angeles is home to the worst traffic i will ever encounter in my short life. not only because of the gridlock that commands a big chunk of the useful day, but because of the pricks and assholes that populate it.
so i’m stuck in 101 traffic, and this asshat starts honking from behind me like a true asshole. i calmly glance over the rear view to see what his problem is, and shrug my shoulder – there’s a three or four car space in front of me while the rest of traffic is inching forward. we ain’t going anywhere. now the middle aged retard is my ass, trying to cut through and still leaning on his horn. so naturally, i give him the courtesy finger for a couple of seconds, before speeding up to close the gap in front of me. LA traffic is a joke, i chuckle on the phone to my mexican friend rudy lopez (who has an uncanny semblance to pedro of napoleon dynamite fame).
when a lane opens up to the side, the retard scrambles over, rolls down his window and hollers “fuck you!”. what? what the hell is your problem. so i scoot over to his lane, get on his ass, and stick my finger out the window. i follow him to exit, he turns left and i turn left, with me still flipping him off because he’s a retard. the side streets are still gnarled with traffic, as he rolls down his window and starts yakking “fuck you! fuck you!” again. “what the hell is your problem?!” “you messed me up! fuck you!” whatever man. so i scream back “fuck you, you fat fuck! you’re an old fag!” as the idiot rolls up his window. he tries to make a left on a non discreet corner to get rid of me i presume, and so i jump over to his other side, slow down and give him a nice fat finger (but not as fat as he is) while he screams another FU.
settle down, LA. on a better day, i would’ve thrown change at your kia.