Monday, June 25, 2007

Expire.

The whole week mentally, emotionally and physically drained me. Let's just say I'm mapping out a path which I dunno where to begin and what to place. You find time to be with you old chums and bask in noise and perfunctory chatter (even when it was 48 years ago that you last seen each other) and try to forget the mental and emotional rigors elevated by your too much contemplation but you can't escape the Lost-in-Translation-loneliness-in-a-crowd. It's that type of thing. Times like these you want to imagine yourself in a tranquil place like Canibad where you can do all the thinking you want. I wish I can just have Hiro's teleporting capabilities.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Maybe it's time to sing, "Time for cool change..." hehehe

Once in a while, a person really need to drop everything and party, i mean go to a sanctuary where he can gather his thoughts and regain his strength. :-)... For me that is the MALL. hehehe

jayclops said...

yeah... and i wish party was the definitive alternate to everything.

Kev12 said...

haha..
agree with those previous comments.. ;)

hehe.
me to0. Wish to have that teleporting capability. :D

oh well.. tnx for the drop! Replied to it nah.. see my blog na lng :D

Jap said...

drop everything and party? how about drop everything and move.

move for a vacation, move for good. =)

tempting.

go on. you're a big boy now =)

Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family, Choose a f—king big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose a three piece suit on hire purchased in a range of f—king fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the f—k you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing f—king junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, f—ked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose a future. Choose life . . . But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?

Renton, Trainspotting