Thursday, July 12, 2007

Emo.

Stepping out of the cramped conference room after a long afternoon meeting, I glanced at the clock above the wall and its long hand was just in time to flick into the 30-minute mark. I wasn’t tired, no. My eyes were listless and I seem to be wandering in a state of dormancy and paranoia instantaneously. Anxious. I wanted to rest my head and drift off to slumber, put on that overplayed playlist of the day. 3 Doors Down, Yellowcard, Dashboard Confessional and some good ole Gin Blossoms. Swear to God, just felt tears welled up my eyes, but they were closed and my arms providing the cushion to prevent those lachrymal by-products from streaking down like snippets of slight rain on an empty wall. Gawd, I’m so fucking emo right now, I can’t even figure why the hell am I. The recurring fantasy of falling off a precipice or the Petronas Towers is so vivid right now.
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1 comment:

Jap said...

awwww. but you're not emo at all. judging from the songs, you're pretty much into adult contemporary which makes you feel rebel-without-a-cause and not emo hehehe that's what i think though.

try the Verve's "colourful" for a little affirmation.

you've got it going, jay. cheer up, a rainbow is just over the bend. =)

Thursday, July 26, 2007 4:55:00 AM

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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