The Wanderer

The Asylum

2011-06-11T04:12:00.000-07:00

one stranger has come to share my room,

a visitor from a half forgotten time.

mad as a hatter, mad as March hare,

deranged.

she sits in the corner of my chamber,

an eerie stare she owns with sharp piercing eyes.

drenched in darkness, still as she is bare,

cryptic.

her shrieking captured, bounded by these for walls,

aimed towards me in the shadow of nightfall.

tainted being, tarnishing the stale air.

defiled.

she deludes with walking the nightmarish room,

creeping, peering as i lay with fear.

daunting, petrified, drenched with sweat,

foreboding.

she has come for me possessed, a girl mad as birds.

sitting on the foot of my bed as cold as the dead,

elated by my pillow bathe with pouring tears.

vile.

i pray, admit the saving light trough the padded walls,

salvage my soul from this malicious tourmentor,

who comes in the night and raves at her will.

fiendish.

her frigid skin touch these stiff feet,

disquietingly caresses them with vicious hands.

this ethereal visitor embraces me with her arms her cleavers.

festering.

bounded to my bed, brain malignant with insanity.

the halls of the madhouse evocative cries and wails of hysteria.

in this matress i lay pacified with her horror.

dread

once stranger has come to leave my room,

at long and dear last i catch a glimps of dawn on her fading arm,

a vision without fail the first ember that sets fire to a star.

freedom.

Illusions

2011-04-18T09:21:00.000-07:00

Every person,
all the events in your life
are there because
you have drawn them there.
What you choose
to do with them is
up to you

I gently place my drink on the countertop in front of me. This dimly lit room seemed to me more radiant than the other places I’ve been to, maybe because this time I had finally realized something I should have years ago. Here in this musty old pub I’ve found my salvation. Though it injures my soul to think about it, it had saved me from an existence of suffering, at this instant I can stand up and tread one foot in front of the other.

I lay my tab on the counter. Some loose change I gained from only God knows where. The barkeep - like all others I’ve met- took the change and wiped of my place for the next sorry bastard that came his way. I’m used to the darkness of the night. The night for me is a different world. Scents not often smelled, textures not often touched, sights not often seen. The darkness of nighttime envelops your spirit and makes you one with it.

I put on my old rag coat on and stepped out of the pub. In to the silence of the night I have grown to love so much. My hands closed fist on the pockets of my coat head stooped down in seclusion. I didn’t bother to look forward to where I was headed. In the night you’re allowed to drift. The street lights lit my way as I strolled along this sidewalk miles ahead of me was the same obscurity I so cherished. And recalling her it dawned on me. I saw her as how I wanted her to be, not as how she really was.

We met at a time before I was capable of remembering she was innocent back then maybe that’s how I pictured her. She stole my heart in a blink of an eye and from then on my life has changes so profusely. I never managed to get up from that instant on.

On this concrete harsh world I treaded, on this undemanding sidewalk I trudged. Contemplating the time I have spent with her. Was it a waste? I have come across this lamp post hundreds of times in my life but now, to me, it didn’t appear to be just a normal lamp post. I stood under its radiant beams staring at the edifice in front. Windows illuminate with the light from their owners bedrooms or kitchens or studies silhouettes of people pass across while I stood there, imagining my self in those bounds, those limits. Love changes a man it makes him keen on the suffering of his tortured spirit.

I crossed the street hands in my coat looking both ways and glad to reach the other side. I was happy to acknowledge a fellow drifter along my path. here in the hours of darkness everyone are friends we share a sorrow only we know. Blissful inhabitants they turn their backs at the night and close their eyes and sleep… I never had that comfort. ..

I walked to the park where she and I had passed in more than one occasion. Now this park seemed empty and dull. Sat on a rickety rusted bench and drifted away here in the shadows of both the night and the deep alcoves of my distorted consciousness. The sounds of the night echo in my ears crickets scrape their legs together to emit a constant ring, irritating yet soothing at the same time. The deep croaks of the frogs near the lake join the crickets’ tune to form a melody of night’s orchestra with me and the thought of her in the middle of it all.

She had entered my life not of our own free will, fate has decided that on that day she will toy with us, the stars got bored of watching re-runs of soap operas that they decided to amuse themselves with two persons not considerate of their feelings all these events were not of our fault people come in to your life not knowing how they can shape it the burden falls on us on how we allow them to do the shaping.

I had sat on this bench for nearly an hour now. Still wallowing in the enveloping darkness; I saw her for what I wanted her to be and there lay my flaw. I had put her upon a pedestal so high that only God himself had comparison; to me she always had a gleam of innocence within her. For I loved her so and that is the reason I pictured her to be what she was not.

We all practice being fictional for a while and then later on. We find out that the fictional characters we created are more real than people with bodies and hearts. I gave my soul to a fictional character and beleaguered myself for her. We are all free to do whatever we want to do that’s the beauty of being human and she did whatever she delighted to do. I had been so sightless to perceive what it was doing to me and I had managed to let this illusory character destroy the person I am. She was not that way. She was not how I depict her to be. Yet the consoling fact of the matter is that I was more than willing to make her jus that imaginary character because I felt that it defined me as a person…what was I without my agony? What was I without my pain?

The howl of a stray dog cuts my lamentation. I stood up the bench it squeaked like a mouse caught on a trap it was time to end this night. The sun was rising as I walked passed through the park leading to my home people seem to be getting up starting their days right. Men mumbling useless figures as they jogged, “I’m the king of the world” that’s what they mean to say to one another. Women bantering endlessly at the mess they had to sweep off the street. A jogger passed by hitting me from behind looking at me in a peculiar way. Like I’m not supposed to be here; his right this is not my kind you are not my people.

I’m home. I entered my room the shutters clanked as they covered the window. I locked my door ending it with a gentle click. It’s my turn to turn my back… it’s my turn to close my eyes…

the ballad of nightfall...

2011-04-16T15:13:00.000-07:00

the beams of fluorescent light resemble icicles gleaming, piercing ...

the sickenning bite of dank musty cold air....

strangers with blank stares hum quietly, hum on their own....

vertiginous stretches of deep halls elongated bounds,

her dark, dreary, gloomy realm....

the shade crawling...

she feels her feet deep in it wading....

floating on borrowed breaths, less dense then her shadow....

tethered to her wings dead weight's bitter pull...

it seems it might be a delicate balance between giving-in and struggling against...

the maidens around her of not too tall stature...

wear tear like forms bolted to their ears...

from their necks some semblance of black oil crawl down tear tracks or the like ...

enraptured by these instruments of whom sounds of indoctrination stem...

when shall these souls be un-caged and take heed to freedom's radiant song...

a grief ago she who was in her cloud-like bed, she who holds her pillow and covers...

and she who lies, as if in suspended trance comforted around by a garden...

dream chimerical psalms on a backdrop of surreal reflections...

the night is clear there need be no hesitation...

stains and bitter taste of coffee makes sure the length of night she will have to endure....

and i tell her this before the roster crows and the sun casts her bones to fire....

"brave the cold musty air, wade steadily on your shadow, breathe on borrowed air...

cross your arms you archaic angel and close your fist...

then lay your gypsy eyes to sleep so you may embrace yourself in reverie...

so long... farewell... adiu...

2011-04-14T10:49:00.000-07:00

oh how i miss you so...

and since you've been gone...

i have never lost this pain...

feeling like a fool...

my love for you runs deep...

inside me burns so strong..

embers of time we had...

and now here i stand..

lost in a memory..

how i wish i coud at least for a change...

think of your face and smile...

look up to the stars and pray....

send them words that we couldnt say...

hanging on to the feelings nothing could sway...

and here i stand, i gaze at you as you fade away...

racing trough the walls...

running up and down...

perched between these desolate halls...

talking to myself i feel like a clown...

just a fool for you...

seems i did things to make you feel better...

didn't know it made you feel bad...

we tried it didn't work...

it used to be i talk to you and wonder

how you could wipe away the tears of me, a stranger...

your there across the seemingly boundless sea..

and the moon is always singing a melancholic aria...

between the sand and stars you should be here with me...

yet there is only loneliness between you and those ceaseless seas...

you were just a normal woman...

a beautiful dangerous woman that i can not let go of

an angelic devil in the fiery rivers of Acheron...

perhaps devilish angel from an elysian vision ...

lets say goodbye its time to say goodbye

and alone watching you slip away like grains of sand blown by the wind...

its an impossibility now...

to see your face and smile...

how i long for you sweet..so long...farewell...adieu'

my 5 year plan...

2009-08-25T11:10:00.000-07:00

year one.... finish my licensure exams
year two.... come back to the maldives just for the sake of leasure!!
year three.. start my masteral in conservation and restoration architecture!
year four... smoke toke! like a crazy preson trough the whole masteral course!
year five.... become an archeologist!

this is my 5 year plan....

COCKNEY SEAGULLS

2009-07-20T14:42:00.000-07:00

...those damn COCKNEY SEAGULLS!!!

...their... like winged creatures of the night! made of boils and puss and banshee ticketing agents who have no future in the ebbing depths of the corporate whirlpool..

... and they reside inside your pillow, the bridge between the real world and your dreams, at night they crawl inside your duodenum and "paranizes" your brain for eons, as you watch their painted fingernails grow behind your eyelids...

... they bore in to your eye, the window to your soul! and secrete a montage of gases between your retina and your iris

...these damned seagulls are the creature fore told that taints your soul.. NEIGH! your very existence, with an aquamarine haze of dewdrops and phlegm, with the oozing remnants of your being slumping to the floor and ravaged upon by these so called carrion devouring has-beens of the "empyrean regions" who's wings were clipped and epithet labels torn upon those crimson brown rags...

...a banshee of a pretentious COCKNEY!!!

i have left this as a warning to you all, please do believe the slow, sorry deterioration of this specie tho harmful as it may be... the seagull is slowly withering in strength,power,respectability, loosing its hope and dreams and slowly vanishing from our world and shall be forgotten like a speckle of bread crumbs eaten by the very cockroaches they have loathe in their lifetime, masticated and excreted like excrement of cockroaches... dreaded as they may be...

the ever elusive cockney seagull...beware thou its cunning...

artist rendition of the cockney seagull's first deterioration, has not been seen in actuality but once thought to be sighted though turned out it was a rotten tuna casserole. a common mistake for they both share a similar scent and repulsive nature...

an amateur photo, the cockney seagull caught once hiding behind a blue wall in italy trying to blend in its over powering shades of yellow and covering up its gaseous body emanation of fungus and fungi with 3 bottles of perfume. studies on this menace has been arguably decided upon, that... it has lost all account of a mind of its own. rather it siphons up the memories of dogs that are in heat...

and the total deterioration of all hopes and dreams where in the once feared and ferocious banshee turns in to a mindless slave of the society... its dreams and aspirations are but a memory that flashes in its epididymis. once every 11 months... sadly enough its life wont last more than 10 months, 3 weeks, 6 days and 23 hours... and its brain can no longer distinguish the memory of what it had hoped to be...

desire

2009-07-14T16:22:00.000-07:00

Ahid Aadhu at 18:17 on 13 July

but whats there to live for if you dont have any desire?

Jose Jaime Belen at 18:27 on 13 July

is desire the only thing people live for?

Ahid Aadhu at 18:30 on 13 July

probably not...but i bet its one of those things

Jose Jaime Belen at 16:08 on 14 July

people can live with out a leg or an arm i im sure they can live with out desire too...

Ahid Aadhu at 16:09 on 14 July

atleast you need a desire to live, dont u?

Thanzy Fn at 16:29 on 14 July

its about desires n needs aadhu... unless they're one n the same then jo's philosophy'll work... but otherwise ur in sum deep shit dude

Jose Jaime Belen at 16:35 on 14 July

ah see the desire to live takes us away from the idea that living should not be desired but enjoyed, ergo liberating our selves of that desire leaves us with the essential. the enjoyment of life...

Ahid Aadhu at 16:44 on 14 July

but how can you enjoy something without having the desire to enjoy it?

Jose Jaime Belen at 18:54 on 14 July

one good example is sex... you desire women..you desire sex.. you ejoy women and sex... but you enjoy it because you quench your desires... what if you didnt desire sex? what if u didint desire women. when you find a girl it will be pure... and ull find that all the essentials are what you need. love cheezy as it may be.

Ahid Aadhu at 19:01 on 14 July

which means we desire love! cheesy as it is.

Jose Jaime Belen at 20:11 on 14 July

we desire the illusion of love take away the desire u take away the illusion... and what is left is the purity of love... tacky as it may sound.

Ahid Aadhu at 20:16 on 14 July

and you think love will keep u alive?...oh man, i think u r listening to eagles too much

Jose Jaime Belen at 21:05 on 14 July

and are you saying desire keeps us alive? id rather choose love to keep us alive than desire.

Ahid Aadhu at 00:23 on 15 July

its not a question of choosing...u cant choose to breathe nitrogen instead of oxygen...and u cant choose to live without desire...its just not possible

Jose Jaime Belen at 07:21 on 15 July

to hell possibility...to hell with nitrogen! desire is a well! a well where in you fall... fall deep in to an endless void...a void that you can never float above from... a black hole where nothing exists... desire is the rust that eats away your inner core desire is a cancer that lives on despite your death... desire is a whim, a fashion, thatmundane people hang on to, to acknowledge their existence. the loss of desire to some people comprises the loss of the will to survive... that doo doo i can never agree with weather i am right or wrong... desire is a virus that eats up humanity... it makes humanity believe that without "desire" we don't have the will, neigh! the reason to leave on. desire is a placebo that makes us believe that we have to find value in this world....

Red

2009-05-30T15:05:00.000-07:00

   2 am can’t quite fall asleep… I hear the humming of the motor of the fan… drenched in sweat lying on this desolate room…I see a beam of moonlight fall angular to the floor from my window… a grayish white beam of light…I hear the clock ticking tick… tick… tick… the monotony hypnotizes me…In this isolated room - all that is- I and my beating heart…I placed my arm on my forehead like I always did staring at the ceiling I have come to know so well…a spider dangling on its web… its been here for days just like me…

            The shadow of the fan cuts the beam of light…one after another a steady flicker comes out of it… just enough to insist this lucidity in my head... is this a dream or am I really here did my head create this places to escape the torture of the existent world. It don’t matter I’m numb here; in a different plane of peace and tranquility in the lucidity of my mind I am safe.

            The colors of this room send a morbid chill…one that cuts trough my bones… grays, black, and -a dull almost rust shade of- yellow surround me…its so blank so plane that my deadness seem to go in tune with this world.

            It’s been years since I’ve needed someone… I can’t even remember the last instant I felt the necessity of human touch. It appears all foreign to me now… the longing for contact it feels like a distant memory that I am unsure occurred. The clock ticks along with my thumping heart…the beats seem to follow the rhythm of the second hand as it counts the seconds away…tick…tick…tick… that steady… rhythm that, droning anguish…

            A fly hovers across the room; I stare at it and consider her as my friend in my world all I have is a clock, my spider my fan and her… she drifted too closely to the fan blowing her of course be careful my little fly watch out for the wind…her tiny wings carrying her copping to stable her self out…I’m proud of you little fly…I have a spider here in my ceiling watch out my voice whispered to her; listen to my caution little fly he’s here lurking in the dark…flies are hard headed creatures they have a mind of their own. She flew too closely to the web and found herself ensnared in its pinions your dead my little fly… he’ll poison you and rot your flesh from the inside out while your still alive he’ll keep you moving just for spite and when you’ve decayed inside he’ll drink you and leave a shell of what you once were…my poor little fly I hate to loose you; I won’t say “I told you so…”

            I squished the spider with my hand, opened my palm and stood there gazing at the twitching legs and juicy guts of what use to be a spider… I’m alone again just like before. I have my own world here the dull colors calm me keep me safe in my uniformity… tick…tick…tick… the batteries of my clock are dying…my heart has gone so accustomed to its cadence tick...... tick...... tick...... does it mean the beats of my heart will come to its end? I’m lying here looking at my ceiling with the shell of my fly and the spider at my hand… finally the clock is winding down…my time has come to pass…the sweet serenity of death’s finger in my head… tick…… tick……tic……ti……

            GGGHHAAAsssspppp…. My last breath….. I lay here waiting for death to lay his hand on me. but what is this? She taps on my window; forcing her way in to my solitude a red butterfly? How odd? How bleak? A touch of color on this dreary sight…does death embody himself in the image you least expect?! A butterfly red and brilliant in its subtlety… lands on me; lands on my chest… tick…tick…tick…the timepiece runs?! The room brightens the clock strikes 3…

The Raven

2009-04-17T11:08:00.000-07:00

Edgar Allan Poe

[First published in 1845]

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

-one of my most favoriet poems!

i'm so lonesome i could die...

2009-04-17T10:23:00.000-07:00

memory...

2009-04-17T10:21:00.001-07:00

Memory is a wonderful thing...if u don't have to deal with the past...

Sam was a quiet reserved man...Lost in his reverie most of the time...He rarely talked about himself or about others. He had the habit of smoking in bed and fantasizing about a life he had never had. 4 years ago the love of his life died on a freak plane accident everyone else survived except her and maybe Sam as well..

"...and now... here i am. a lost soul looking over his dead love's tombstone alone in the cemetery with the cats, bats and rats...

marion... i dont know if you can hear me but i'll speak despite...i used to romanticize things so much, yet now I'm only happy when I'm truly alone...Its seems better then to be with someone and still feel lonely, i hate the idea that i appear numb, numb to the point where i don't sense pain or excitement i feel stagnant. its just like when you loose the tactile sense in your legs or your arms but you still use them because you have to walk or carry things around, but you don't come across the warmth of touch anymore or the pain of heat. Even if you're holding out your arm to an open flame you don't take it out because you're not aware of the pain. I know, I just had too many mundane relationships and there wasn't really any conscious perception of connection. I got so drawn to the idea of what we had possessed, it might have not been the person specifically, but the idea, the feeling that i had when i was with you...

I think i look too much on the details...the details are what draw me to people, certain quirks that had never really left me. The deep breath in your sleep and whenever i hear someone with it,memory draws me back to the time when I had you. Then I wake up...wake up beside someone different who made the similar deep breath and then I am alone...Alone again because its not you.. And it doesn't make me miss you more, it makes me angry, angry that i can never have that feeling back. a feeling that you stole from me... a feeling we had together and its all vanished, wasted, gone... that imaginary piano you play on my arm each time you stare in to space and hear the music in your mind. I felt that music so much even I started to hear it too...that music had faded away now you brought it with you, and all you left me are the soft touches of your fingertips that i still feel in my arm after all these years.

And its just that! just that... from time to time I'm reminded that i had this starry eyed notion of love! a romanticized picture of how my life was going to be and i truly believed in it you made me believe in it. but You have taken that too away from me... i don't believe in love anymore as much as i used to or maybe we just all grow out of it when the time comes, or maybe you were the one that slapped me into reality a slap in the face... I don't feel what i felt before... i hate people now and it was you who introduced me to the world that I live in today. I reckon i had put all that love I had to offer in a lifetime into those years and i will never feel all these again. I had lived my life in that moment in time and its forever gone..

I always have these dreams of you since you left a month hasn't gone by without a dream of you... and still after all these years these dreams of you torment me plague my very being. it is of us in this garage this old 1920's garage with a vintage cadillac and your leaning off of the bumper in your jeans and baby tees endlessly narrating your life... the look of joy in your face some times sorrow tho often in remorse then i want to touch you badly to hold you close to me but I know I cant and I don't. I just stand there on the cobble stone pavers and stare at you longingly and thats enough for me. I wake up in cold sweat still longing for you even if only for that moment. in dreams emotions are overwhelming and in that point where in you know your dreaming and your still halfway in the dream that you believe to be true,those are the worst, there are times that I hope I'm just in that state as long as i can hold on, as long as i can bear not to be pulled away from it, then I wake up in this world and people around me suffer, they suffer my apathy, my loss of my emotion, a cold shell that they only have the ability to stare at but never touch for fear of getting hurt. an abrasive nature that you helped create when you left.

You can never really replace anyone... I have long envied the resiliency of people who move forward to be with one then change to another like they change their slippers. in fact i think its more intimate for them to change their underwear than to replace someone.. I had never had that with you. i could never achieve the freedom that comes with forgetting. i am cursed to keep the details. i am bound to keep you and its destroying me from within.

In a way i guess I'm talking to you and sending off my voice into nowhere. it will never reach you. Somehow, i guess I'm talking just for my self and how i realize that its never going to change and I'm never going to meet you again.."

Sam walks the graveyard alone... he heads home, lights his cigarette and lies on his bed... wondering about a life he never had....

you really got a hold on me...

2009-04-08T22:51:00.000-07:00

Tho Audrey Hepburn will always hold the biggest place in my heart... here is a top contender for her place.. Zooey Dechanel! she plays in movies that have a very 60's vive to them.. she played the sister in almost famous, a very very individualistic corky rocker in yes man and has an album out called "he and she"...where she sings these lovely vintage songs... i may soon be seeing my self head over hills on this adorable lovely lady...

do check out her links...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ThRVUcmSa0

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NTAjLwWNITg&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3DbaJgSkDVg

on elementary love, and rudimentary life...

2009-04-03T15:41:00.000-07:00

i have seen LIFE trough broken glass and clear sparkles...

i have felt longing and warmth trough tattered rags and linen cloth...

pain is but a shallow cover up, an infinite loop of swirls and tumbles...

comparable to a surfing wipe-out you are a tumbling doll under the water lost, swirling, not knowing which way is up nor down... yet you stay a float banging in to the crashing waves. the current puling you deeper and deeper till all you have is loaned air. you realize how important it is to breathe. how miniscule you are on the depths of the flowing seas.

i have felt LOVE trough sunbeams and shadows, trough pink foam spectacles...

i have manage to be a ghost of my generation being born at the wrong time, i am here, yet living on the edges of my soul... love is but a figment of your imagination, yet we chase for it like a monumental child in all its glory and awe. Ironies that we can never resolve, a conundrum of thoughts, feelings, and emotions that we are willing to take around our necks and tie to the nearest tree to dangle upon. The grip of the rope and the burn of the lariat taunt on your skin. That being so, the thug of finality before the concluding crack turns in to your refuge! and slowly you learn to accept the tunneling vision. utill a darker shade of black is all you see and you come to the realization that hope is lost you beckon to it, you follow it trough... it shall be easier that way....

and just like a butterfly on a summers eve you appear my elementary and rudimentary salvation.

solitude of flight....

2009-03-27T08:19:00.000-07:00

i love the detachments of airports...
the cold granite tiles you endlessly walk about...
the emptied eyes of people you pass by...
i adore the apathy of lonely travelers...
they joy of a family trip...
and the romance of couples....
what lonely hours tho...these florescent beams produce...
only 2 phases of time occur on these places of flight...
the rush of the late...and the boredom of the early...

Roman Holiday Realization

2009-03-21T05:55:00.000-07:00

Princess Ann: At midnight, I'll turn into a pumpkin and drive away in my glass slipper.

Joe Bradley: And that will be the end of the fairy tale.

i am fund of the idea about the tragedy of things... the fall of grace... the notion that all things are doomed, that we are born alone... and will die alone... but the journey in between from life to death is grandiose!

one of my all time favorite movies is "Roman Holiday" for me it encompasses the whole fragility of the human condition... that nothing lasts forever, no good thing in particular... in the end we all loose a "happy ending" so to speak. that life is never a fairy tale that we should live life at the fullest at each passing moment for tomorow it may be the end of a dream.

Today i went to the mall on a saturday, not my favorite thing to do but i had to buy some stuff and ran some errands along the way. Anyone who knows what a mall is has the general idea of a flock of people gathering toward the same path, walking towards the same destination, with no apparent direction, a mob mentality so to speak. With one common goal. To satisfy their material needs or just to be seen in their best sunday dress! I, who am innately mutinous to the idea of what society perceives a person to be, walked against the flow of the mob passing by people face to face rather than seeing their back sides and following a leader w/c no one person can single out. Naturally i had a lot of evil stares and weird glances from the typical drones that come pass by me. All this while the only thought that came rushing trough my head as i watched the countless waves of drones ebbing away from me and swelling towards me, was the sudden realization that i don't want to be a part of that swell. I don't want to be a part of that synchronized lifestyle of these mall brazen people... Then like a shot right trough to the back of you, or a truck blind siding you in a monday afternoon. I, all at once became aware of the fact that tho i was with a hundred people under one roof... i was alone....

Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn new that the love that they had was doomed. That they can never be. And thats what adds the beauty of it. That each passing moment had more value imbibed on it, we count minutes or hours rather than seconds. We don't find value in the infinitesimal form of measurement. We use meters instead of micrometers because we don't find value in a millisecond. To us a microsecond is nothing tho to an insect a millisecond can be an eternity. To us a year is along time but for the universe a year is diddly-squat... It is difficult to wait on measured time, but its with a persons point of view on such matters that he can change everything.

Today because of what happened in the mall I have decided to measure moments by the second, I have decided to use my left hand from time to time, on things I normally do with my right, today I have decided to count the steps I make from the place I came from to the place I'm headed. Today I have made a decision to make a conscious choice on everything I do rather than doing it because its what I have been accustomed to. This reminds me of a story I once read way back it was about an old man who went to see a psychologist for his bad habit of sucking on his thumb. The psychologist told him that each time he had the urge to suck on his thumb he should choose another finger besides the thumb and after a few weeks he returned to his psychologist dumbfounded but cured! Soon he asked his doctor what he had done to cure him to which the doctor replied "... each time you had the urge to suck your thumb, you did not do it right away, you had to make a conscious effort to make a choice, sooner or later you realized that making that choice was not worth the effort at all and the habit was broken..." Today i have decided that i won't only do things because of habit. For in the end, I don't want to realize (like i did at the mall today) that i had lived my life as a drone forced by habit...

audrey hepburn

2009-03-18T00:21:00.000-07:00

Unending Love

I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times...

In life after life, in age after age, forever.

My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many formsIn life after life, in age after age, forever.

Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, it's age old pain,It's ancient tale of being apart or together.As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,Clad in the light of a pole-star, piercing the darkness of time.

You become an image of what is remembered forever. You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.At the heart of time, love of one for another.

We have played along side millions of lovers,Shared in the same shy sweetness of meeting,the distressful tears of farewell,Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.

~Rabindranath Tagore

http://allspirit.co.uk/tagore1.html

tyrant!

2009-03-12T01:37:00.000-07:00

you know alarm clocks yeah?! they have these massive bells on the op of them ringing and startling the bejesus out of a half conscious you?! later on someone decide to add a radio on it so if u don't like the music you just change the tuner...

i have 3 alarm clocks on mi flat yeah... and i still couldn't get up, i got one in the loo, one on mi nightstand, one on the living area, all synchronized to go off one after another based on my bad snoozing habits...

but this is amazing right... its from a Taiwanese designer alice wang http://www.alice-wang.com/product.php?pd_id=3, what it does is it goes off yeah, and if you don't switch it off it starts dialing random numbers off of you mobile every 3 minutes and you can hear them on a speaker...

brilliant! hate to be on the other end of the line tho if they decide to wake up at 4 in the monin!

My top 10 Movies of the 80's

2009-03-09T13:24:00.000-07:00

10: Who Framed Roger Rabbit 1988

Eddie Valiant: You crazy rabbit! I'm out there risking my neck for you, and what are you doing? Singing and dancing!
Roger Rabbit: But I'm a toon. Toons are supposed to make people laugh.
Eddie Valiant: Sit down!
Roger Rabbit: You don't understand. Those people needed to laugh.
Eddie Valiant: Then when they're done laughing, they'll call the cops. That guy Angelo would rat on you for a nickel.
Roger Rabbit: Not Angelo. He'd never turn me in.
Eddie Valiant: Why? Because you made him laugh?
Roger Rabbit: That's right! A laugh can be a very powerful thing. Why, sometimes in life, it's the only weapon we have.

9: honey! I Shrunk the Kids! 1989

[Wayne shows Diane the shrunken couch]

Diane: [excited] Are you saying... it works? The machine works?
[Wayne nods]
Diane: Do the kids know?
Wayne: Well, yeah, the kids know.
Diane: That's great!
Wayne: No, it's not great.
Diane: Why?
Wayne: I shrunk the kids.
Diane: ...What?
Wayne: And the Thompson kids too. They're about this big.
Diane: *What*?
Wayne: They're in the backyard. I threw them out with the trash.
[just as Diane grabs hold of Wayne, the doorbell rings. Wayne opens the door to two police officers]
Female Cop: Hi. Um, you reported two missing children?
Wayne: Oh, there must be some mistake. Our children are in the backyard. Right, honey?

[Diane faints]

8: BIG 1988

Susan: I'm not so sure we should do this.
Josh: Do what?
Susan: Well, I like you, and I want to spend the night with you.
Josh: Do you mean sleep over?
Susan: Well, yeah.
Josh: OK... but I get to be on top.

Josh: It's a glow-in-the-dark compass ring. So you don't get lost.

7: Little Shop Of Horrors 1986

Audrey II: Does this look "inanimate" to you, punk? If I can move and I can talk, who's to say I can't do anything I want?

Audrey II: [singing] If you wanna be profound, if you really gotta justify, take a breath and look around, a lot of folks deserve to die!

Audrey II: [singing] I'm just a mean green mother from outer space and I'm bad!

6: Say Anything 1989

Lloyd Dobler: [leaving the last of a series of messages on Diane's answering machine] "Maybe I didn't really know you. Maybe you were just a mirage. Maybe the world is full of food and sex and spectacle and we're all just hurling towards an apocalypse, in which case it's not your fault. I'm been thinking about all these things and... you're probably standing there monitoring. And one more thing - about the letter. Nuke it. Flame it. Destroy it. - It hurts me to know it's out there. Later."

5: Back to the Future 1985

[Dr. Emmett Brown is doubting Marty McFly's story about that he is from the future]
Dr. Emmett Brown: Then tell me, "Future Boy", who's President in the United States in 1985?
Marty McFly: Ronald Reagan.
Dr. Emmett Brown: Ronald Reagan? The actor?
[chuckles in disbelief]
Dr. Emmett Brown: Then who's VICE-President? Jerry Lewis?
[rushing out and down a hill toward his laboratory]
Dr. Emmett Brown: I suppose Jane Wyman is the First Lady!
Marty McFly: [following Doc] Whoa! Wait! Doc!
Dr. Emmett Brown: And Jack Benny is Secretary of the Treasury.
Marty McFly: [outside the lab door] Doc, you gotta listen to me.
Dr. Emmett Brown: [opens the door to the lab] I've had enough practical jokes for one evening. Good night, Future Boy!
[closes the door leaving Marty outside]
Marty McFly: No, wait! Doc. Doc. The-the-the bruise - the bruise on your head. I know how that happened! You told me the whole story. You were standing on your toilet, and you were hanging a clock, and you fell, and you hit your head on the sink. And that's when you came up with the idea for the Flux Capacitor...
[somberly]
Marty McFly: Which... is what makes time travel possible.
[Doc opens the door and looks at Marty with a stunned look on his face]

4: Weird Science 1985

the woman that Gary and Wyatt created is looking for a name
Garry: How about Lisa?
Lisa: Why Lisa?
Garry: Why not?
Wyatt: He used to like a girl named Lisa.
Lisa: [smiles] Oh yeah? Old girlfriend?
Wyatt: She kicked him in the nuts.
Garry: [annoyed] Will you shut the hell up?
Wyatt: [sympathetically] Look Gary, it wasn't your fault. All you said was hello to her.
Garry: [annoyed] Look Wyatt, shut up!
[Wyatt puts up his hands defensively, indicating that he will shut up. He looks slightly hurt by Gary's treatment of him as he was only trying to help]

3: Karate Kid 1984

Miyagi: First, wash all car. Then wax. Wax on...

Daniel: Hey, why do I have to...?
Miyagi: Ah ah! Remember deal! No questions!
Daniel: Yeah, but...
Miyagi: Hai!
[makes circular gestures with each hand]
Miyagi: Wax on, right hand. Wax off, left hand. Wax on, wax off. Breathe in through nose, out the mouth. Wax on, wax off. Don't forget to breathe, very important.
[walks away, still making circular motions with hands]
Miyagi: Wax on, wax off. Wax on, wax off.

2: beetle juice 1988

[last lines]
[in the waiting room, Betelgeuse is sitting next to a witch doctor, who is next in line]
Betelgeuse: Pardon me. Did you do that?
[points to explorer with shrunken head]
Betelgeuse: That's very nice work. Let me ask you something. How do you get them so sma... Hey, there goes Elvis! Yo, King!
[as the doctor looks away, Betelgeuse switches numbers]
Betelgeuse: Well, looks like I'm next. Good thing, too. I gotta do a photo shoot for GQ in about an hour and a half. Yeah, they've been after me for months. Doin' some underwear deal. I don't know what...
[the witch doctor sprinkles some powder on Betelgeuse's head; it starts shrinking]
Betelgeuse: [voice getting higher as head gets smaller] Whoa, hey! What are you doing? Hey, stop it! Hey, you're messing up my hair! C'mon! Whoa! Whoa! Stop it! *Whoa!*... Hey, this might be a good look for me.

1: Breakfast Club 1985

Brian Johnson:	Dear Mr. Vernon: We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But, we think you're crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us: in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But, what we found out is that each one of us is: a brain . . .
Andrew Clark:	And an athlete . . .
Allison Reynolds:	And a basket case . . .
Claire Standish:	A princess . . .
John Bender:	And a criminal...
Brian Johnson:	Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, The Breakfast Club.

half a century later...

2009-03-05T00:22:00.001-08:00

I DON'T WANT TO SET THE WORLD ON FIRE

-the ink spots

I don't want to set the world

on fire
I just want to startA flame

in your heart
In my heart I have but one

desire
And that one is youNo other will do

I've lost all ambition for worldly acclaim
I just want to be the one you loveAnd with your

admission that you feel the sam

e
I'll have reached the goal I'm dreaming of
Believe me!
I don't want to set the world on fire
I just want to startA flame in your heart

not 3 days go my hippie mum who may be cooler than i am in any respect knocked on my door and asked me why i keep playing "the ink spots" on my computer... naturally i was bedazzled, dazed and confused for i was drawing in on my second joint of the night. i looked around my computer, up and under to see if it had any ink spots on it... i had not realized that she meant the music. i was intrigued at the event that had just transpired so i searched for the song.

for the none gamers fallout 3 is a video game set on the pre-war, derelict, american lifestyle era, the twist is that america was attacked by a nuclear explosion that devastated washington and most of the united states... what little people who were left emerged from so called "vaults" or bomb shelters thus labeled as vault dwellers.

naturally as this is the theme of the game the music and art conjoins directly to it as well, pre war musician such as:

The Ink Spots

Cole Porter

danny kaye

billie holliday

these artist were featured in it. As you ran about the game their songs pop out on vintage radios, and your very own pocket radio( or arm radio whatever tickles your fancy.)

what amazes me is the notion that a song half a century old is used on a state of the art computer game... i bet that the ink spots would have been thrilled to see a little man running around a television screen doing what you want him to do while listening to the song they sang. astounding!

i have long been amazed at the lives of olden times an era when men where men!! a time where innocence was bliss, a time when art was made for art's sake, a time of free spirits and flower children! a time of rocking! and rolling! a time of big hair and shiny shoes and pointy brasiers... it saddens me that the world now is a time of technology and laziness, then again i wouldn't be having this blog if it wernt for technology... so in retrospect, i do love how the old and new converge to form a whole new entity its like playing tennis with a bunch old rackets made of bones and stones or rather typing on a MAC BOOK made of varnished timber the smell of wood and the texture of an antiquated era...

RAIL ROAD

2009-03-04T23:27:00.000-08:00

CLANK! The strike of the heavy hammer on the cold steel railing distracted me from my reverie… I’ve been a worker for this railroad since its inception…seen a lot of faces and a lot of shit in my travels, Lee the Chinaman I bunk with on this train caught me in my moment of diversion.

“you looost in head of yours again Englishman”

“Fourth time this weak, you go away in head.. yoooooou…trouble make rail weak.”

I suppose he said that my demons interfere with my toil. Compromising the quality of my thrashing... it’s become second nature to me; this work, the custom has made my body a machine that even if my mind is drifting away it runs on auto pilot pounding the unreceptive steel and giving away that clank I so dreaded... Even the quietude of slumber does not give me refuge from its tormenting repetitiveness…

“We’re starting to grow older lee…when did that happen, how do we stop it.”

He was confused at what I said as we continued our work with hostile contempt for those who employed us…this railroad stretches for miles the only comfort that I get besides the measly wages we get paid every month, is the idea that this rail we’re creating in our hands, brought about our sweat and struggle may lead people to a better place where they can feel safe… maybe to lead a person to a point where they can create a new life… in some way that makes the pain at night go away…that searing body ache you get after a hard days work…

“Cchhiinneees proverb says “three feet of ice does note result from one day of freezing weather”

I was confused for a moment at what Lee had just said until Antonio joined in our private conversation…a man does his best to pass the time…to take his mind off his endeavors…we all did, and for a moment we forgot we were here for exertion..

“Roma non fu fatta in un giorno”

Huh?! I thought the heat has gotten into Antonio’s head making him delirious and blabber out these crap...

“Rome was not built in a day”

He translated with his half accent Italian English I had never learned to like. He then exclaimed that a predicament is not formed without a period of events creating it. I think that’s how I got here…a period of half baked events leading me to this point in my life…uncertainties that I came to pass by and meet all accumulating to this one single moment converging in to this one single point in my existence where I had to move on or stay put…

I wiped the sweat of my brow the heat goes trough you like a hot knife trough butter my skin sun burnt trough time and calluses thickened trough strife. lee had herbs for these things I can always count on his burning leaves or bitter sage for relief. They cured my body not my soul.

“FFFUUUUWWWeeeeeeettttteeeee…… FFFFFUUUUUUWWWeeeeeettttteeeee…..”

The steam engine squealed, meant it was time for lunch… I hadn’t notice the moment pass so promptly and I thanked God that he saved me from the agony of waiting for measured time. We all sat under the shade of an oak near by, I saw the faces of the workers crumpled from troubles. An expressionless feature we all had. Nobody cared to talk and nobody looked another in the eye. We were all insignificant … I never looked a person in the eye in my time here maybe because we were too pre occupied in our own troubles or perhaps we were afraid to see how distorted our reflections in their eyes were…

I opened the cloth sack that held my lunch two pieces of whole wheat and a bit of preserve meat. Nourishment comes second to sleep in these parts, You lack them both…lee went on talking while the morsels of his half chewed meal dropped from the edges of his mouth...

“I sold here fro china fo laybo…” “Ten dola…”

Poor guy… I knew him for a while now, maybe more than I had allowed my self too…he has been sold to the rail company as a slave laborer from china for a meager 10 dollars... his father was sick and he had to pay the medical bills he owed the doctors… a few days later when he was being shipped, he got word that his father died anyway strange twist of fate the “irony of life” as I so unfalteringly call it..

Antonio was not as talkative as lee… he had this quite serenity about him. But he was not spared from "the fate" as we all hope to be… his wife sold match boxes in the street of Florence while he was a broke carpenter finding work where ever he can. They were off one night heading home when a bunch of criminals tried to steal from them. Antonio tried to explain that he did not have enough money for the month and tried to plea to the criminals to spare the unfortunate couple. Instead his wife was raped in front of him, tortured and killed while they forced him to watch…he was beaten half to death and thrown in a cargo ship to America over the logs and crates. He was accused of being a stowaway he was then forced to work for the rail company to pay his fare…with the rate were getting paid that can take years…

“FFFUUUUWWWeeeeeeettttteeeee…… FFFFFUUUUUUWWWeeeeeettttteeeee…..”

Its amazing how one sound can give you both happiness and sorrow… we carried our bodies once more and dragged our feet to the rail we were forming out of wood and iron. Is this what they both meant?! About a predicament created by events leading to a final point?! I thought to my self again as my body went on it’s strife…

“CLANK…..CLANK….CLANK….”

I wiped my brow…I was happy once. I had a home… a family… a wife… all of these were taken away from me in a single blink of an eye…faster than a beat of the heart. I was lost. I lived in a humble house beside a lake. My wife and I loved that lake and adored it. In the winters we would walk over the hard ice and the spring brought us joys I can never regain at this moment in my life…the memory of my past life eludes me I can never seem to get the facts right but this instant I remember so vividly as if it was just yesterday…

We were riding our carriage when the wooden wheel broke off. The horses sped off startled at the sudden shrug my harnesses brought them. She fell on to the ground and hit her head on the stone aside the road. As I struggled to calm the beasts I leapt off to attend to her. She had lost consciousness and lay quietly on the ground blood dripping from hear head…I carried her to our house and mended her wounds as I changed her clothes I saw on her body marks of lust that were not my doing… I can see the passion and anger in the marks the covetousness of these scratches. Slowly she had regained consciousness and found me staring blightly at them…she coved her body ashamed of what I had found out…all I could do was walk away in haunting and throw up on the same lake that we called ours.

I forgave her but it was different ever since. The hard ice of the lake had not known the subtle tiptoes of our feet during winter. Chirping of the birds were not accompanied by our laughter and woes of joy… the lake we once had cherished showed its gloom… my life circled around my mates binging and drinking had become a nightly affair for me. I had nothing to come home to the love we once had was lost, gone as I can clearly recall…

One day, on the fall of my most dreaded year, I was walking home drunk as I had so been accustomed to. I saw a figure beside the lake clothed in white flowing; clinging to the form it laid upon. Slowly it descended in to the water determined to find it self at bottom, the leaves rustled as I walked pass by and all I did was watch as the water filled the figure sunken in its depths. I fell on the ground asleep and intoxicated the world twisting in my head...

I had awaken the next day trough the chirping of the birds my wife ahead of me soaked, as she lay there lifeless in the white flowing fabric I had seen the night before, I realized that she had taken her own life and trough my own fault at definite. I held her in my arms knowing that my guilt will never bring her back. Holding her lifeless body her arms dangling on the soiled ground for the last time as the lake touched us…our witness to both our happiness and grief…

“CLANK!!...”

I was never as satisfied to hear the clank as I was now…once again I had lee to thank for my mind’s interruption…by this time it was nearing the end of our labor and it was time to board the rail and travel once more to another distant place we have yet to discover. Every single soul walked lifeless to their bunks inside the steaming locomotive. As the steam engine started its fired belly the whistle screamed its high pitched voice…

“FFFUUUUWWWeeeeeeettttteeeee…… FFFFFUUUUUUWWWeeeeeettttteeeee…..”

And the wheels started to roll in the steel rails…

“chu…chug…… chu….chug…. chu..chug.. chug…chug chugchugchughcug….chuchugchuchugchchug……”

The locomotive swayed to and fro along with the bodies too weak to stand its ground duffle bags and strings sway left and right as well joining the beat of the heated locomotive…I sat on a small table bolted to the flooring and held a bottle of lee’s brewed liquor isolated from the others as I pondered.

“Englishman take drink in seriously…anchony?!”

“leeaaveee himm beee…”

“A predicament is not formed without a period of events creating it?!”…I questioned… will a period of events transpire to take me away from this predicament? I swallowed lee’s brew. It did not taste good but it took me to that other place I use to escape this one…will I ever get back the love that I had lost? She’s dead and so am I, there is no hope, Ice bergs melt and Rome has fallen and we are at the mercy of this rail dragging us where it pleases…

of men and the universe

2009-03-04T00:10:00.000-08:00

It is amazing on how the most insignificant things in the universe find themselves to be far more substantial than what they really are!! Of all things in the universe, us humans are the most useless beings... That is probably why we try so much to work and appear busy to cover up the point that that the world doesn't need us, We find worth in the idea that we have a job to do and for what end?

The world has survive eons before we got here and it will survive eons after. the notion that we have to make the world a better place is arrogant and egotistical.

i have realized when i got back home that the success a person projects is in conjunction with the ability on how he can show society that he is needed. let me point out a very keen analogy (this will be a staple in future writings... i just love analogies)

A politician and a farmer. More often than not politicians put off an aura of success and trust... this is their selling point, its their "pitch" this is what you vote them for the appearance of trust, but can you truly whole trust someone? every time on the news politicians have the same drawing crowd that a movie star command they have turned into a viable commodity rather than custodian of the peoples trust. the farmer on the other hand seems to hide his head in shame, ask children in the city if they wan to be farmers when they grow up and you will be led astray by child like indifference and barefaced "no" yet i feel that i need the farmer more than the politician now a days.

"No man is much regarded by the rest of the world. He that considers how little he dwells upon the condition of others, will learn how little the attention of others is attracted by himself. While we see multitudes passing before us, of whom perhaps not one appears to deserve our notice or excites our sympathy, we should remember, that we likewise are lost in the same throng, that the eye which happens to glance upon us is turned in a moment on him that follows us, and that the utmost which we can reasonably hope or fear is to fill a vacant hour with prattle, and be forgotten..."

Johnson, Samuel

1709-1784 British Author