Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Wrenched

Massive Attack's album of something or the other playing in the background, the more I try to think about the name, the more my who-gives-a-flying meter glows red. This would be one of the few times I've been inspired to write about myself, ironically enough it took a night of drinking to bring me here but there goes another reading on the meter. I've an idea, lets turn this into a blog post, lets jot down something of substance, lets give 'em something to enjoy or more likely, something they could say they enjoyed without seeming awkward, better yet, lets end this sentence.

It's been about 2 or 3 hours and I still can't attribute the flavour in my mouth to anything one would experience in everyday life, though I'm thoroughly glad to see that cigarettes still bank on mystique, everybody knows what any kind of liqour might taste like, but with cigarettes, theres always that curiosity that momentarily overcomes your regular run'o'the'muck nicotine addiction. Bliss.

Over the past few years, I've dedicated much of my life to passively experiencing everything life has to offer, as well as experiencing what people actually mean when they proudly, yet stupidly proclaim that very statement. The first few words that would probably be on everybody's mind would probably be 'sex, drugs and rock'n'roll' , but really, everybody at this stage knows that the afore-mentioned 'creed' has been done time and time again until a life form becomes reminded of pain.

Ah sweet pain, it runs through our bodies like a black'n'blue river , never all that predictable , yet insultingly 'I told you so' when it does manage to strike you like a rookie ninja on his first day.

Recently I've been received the 'emo' crown (of thorns) after I joined a certain band, and this links me quite neatly to old man river , pain. I know for a fact that the word 'emo' doesn't really mean anything to me apart from a fashion sense or a trend, but I'm yet to meet an actual 'emo-induced' person, If you're one of them, please reply to this post so I can slap you quite swiftly on the face and prove that you aren't, the world has bigger problems than your dye-rottened head can possibly conceive.

*sigh* ignorant fools.

Call it a phase, but it might just be another spliff of experience pour moi, again just taking the world in without a gag reflex, trying out different things.

Being worldly.

Hahahaha thats rich.

I'm going to go ahead and end this little rant or whatever it may mean to you, but before I do, I'd like to formally apologise if I caused any of you to be curious about smoking, go ahead and read the little text on the boxes that informs you about the ramifications of ignorance,

Good day.

Sunday, March 04, 2007

I just tried to backspace a speck of dust

Like water over a blue flame,I'm left without a plan of action.
I really haven't got a clue about what to expect in years to come.
Who do you blame when you really would die for something,
and then you realise you're not a part of a TV show where undeserving
actors spin yarns that aren't even original, let alone self-penned, and are ultimately rewarded.

This isn't poetry.
Why are we so weak-willed?, how do we always manage to fail in tests like that,
that inevitably lead to crackly, moral ads that seem to mock, rather than preach?.
I'm tired of beginning every thought with the words "I wish..." ,it makes me seem a really ungrateful,
but then again when do you know when you're genuinely ungrateful ?. Theres always something this world
spews at you, that can always 1up (or 1down) your current state of despair and above all,
Loneliness.

This isn't poetry.
Why do I have to put on a mask of interest whenever I have to read bad writing or silly and stupid blog posts for instance?.
They always put my own pieces into perspective which come off as equally amateurish.
Why are there so many politically-incorrect morons around me, that are quicker to voice their opinion,
than they are to come up with one thats uninfluenced by a wave of folk that hail from the same flock?.

Again, this isn't poetry.

Nope, this time it really isn't poetry.

-Caes


Mementos - Claires ring, AA-IOYP, Augustana, The E.T Ends
 
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