methrowrock: (Air Balloon)
How do you explain two weeks in words, especially after spending the fortnight without them? It has been two weeks of seeing, watching, talking, laughing, listening: mechanical stimulation of the appendages, sensory faculties, and unfortunately, not much else. Sensations have taken over the steering wheel, as Emotions and Thoughts cower in the backseat, queasy at the recklessness. That, my friends, is a horrible and cringe-inducing analogy, hahaha. To paraphrase the words from a forgotten luminary, we do not feel when events are in the process of unfolding. Instead, it is only after the dust has settled when we begin to varnish it with a layer of sepia sentiments. And so, here goes my pitiable attempt to bling the days up.

here comes the sun

dream of a vacant pier, move all your maps to here )
methrowrock: (Air Balloon)
It is a sign of the holidays when the tendrils of thoughts have grown frail and flaccid. Brainwaves, that used to possess soaring crests you could surf upon endlessly, have become subdued, rolling onto the shore and nibbling at your toes like a meek puppy. Watching Taiwanese dramas, The Office, and the hilarious hijinks of Arashi have been heartening, but deadening. It makes one sit on the prickly fence between self-loathing and self-resignation. Then, once in a while, something like Half Nelson comes along, and finally, you are promoted to being an eating-and-drinking machine, to an eating-and-drinking being. Yay! Temporarily.

Half Nelson )

summary of the summery haze )

Okay, this has been obscenely long. Unfortunately, it is true that I talk better when typing. Training in seven hours, wowhee! No sleep tonight, which means more shows tonight. Haha. This won't do, this won't do. I must wake up my idea soon.
methrowrock: (Sunflower)

this is not the sound of a new man or crispy realization )
methrowrock: (DBSK!)
It is in the soporific haze of the early morning that you glimpse the magick of the mundane. Your eyelids weighed down by the desire to close them, your eyes glazed with the luminescence of a million pixels, your mind engorged on the buffet of colours and movements. Blink. The world that appears is a world that conjures the corporeality of hopes and dreams. Inhale. Exhale. Emotions surge into the lungs, the aortas, the reticulated network of vessels and veins. A hulking and undifferentiated mass of a mess. It barrages through the channels, making its presence known like a swaggering overlord. It claims priority; it demands superiority. And in these bleary hours, certainty is certainly something that you desire and cherish. Certainty that your day has not been a waste of time; your month, your year, your decade, your life has not been a waste of time. Certainty that your future will not be a waste of time. Certainty that you are exactly who you are in where you need to be. And in these dreary hours, you give yourself a discount by conflating lived necessities with actualized aspirations. Things are going well, the best that they possibly can, given what you have. You smile. :) Then, the song stops. In the lull between two aural worlds, the one that you had painted with firm brushstrokes disappears. Things accelerate in reverse motion. The certainty curls into itself, the emotions recedes and swirls into a drainpipe on the floor of your imagination. Blink. You are yawning, you have a final in a day's time, you are slouching against a makeshift fortress of pillows with a laptop burning up your thighs. Bleargh. But that's okay, because you will soon sleep and have the sun do the smiling for you. And you will be soothed by the stable dreams you will have later.

PressPausePlay )
methrowrock: (Fandom 2)

the day that you do is the day that you die )


methrowrock: (Default)

March 2013

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