Unselective Memories, Ineffective Sentences

Waiting under the twinkling Christmas lights, fingers touching the frayed, cotton souvenir scarf dangling on my neck, I am reminded of the library in my old school. My safe haven, my special space of solitude for those many times when I arrived too late for classes.

I am reminded of that small group of close friends, all of whom were strange and patient enough to stand by the mute who never spoke a word during the course of their friendship. I am reminded of a series of illustrated books on famous figures of the world, one of which taught me how Isadora Duncan was choked by her own scarf which got entangled around a car wheel.

I was reminded of her when my perhaps overly long scarf got inexplicably stuck on some lady’s backpack zipper as she exited the elevator this morning. I was reminded of her when I took off my scarf as I was about to cross a crowded street. I am reminded of her now as I cautiously hold the ends of my scarf, amused that a trivial thing I read about more than a decade ago, long before I came to fear mortality, would come to haunt me on this day.


What’s Cooler Than Being Cool?

Or in the wise words of Andre 3000,
“Now what’s cooler than bein’ cool?”
“Ice cold!”

Well there you go then.
It’s like the early years of high school all over again.

“If you want it, oh you could have it.”

The Duke Spirit – Lion Rip (mp3)

This song brings my back to around five years ago, I guess. Ah, sweet nostalgia :) The things I most remember about them is the lovely vocalist Liela Moss, once muse to Alexander McQueen, and that simple specific line above I still hold to heart even until now.

Oh you can do, do, do what you want
And go, go just where you will
‘Cause you’re alive inside with this lie
And it feels like this

If you want it
Oh you could have it
But you have to be honest now
About where you’re feeling it from

Well you say, say, say whatever comes
And it rings so true much later on
Oh you’re alive inside with this lie
And it tastes like her milk

If you want it
Oh you could have it
But you have to feed this feeling now
With all the spark of your fire

I like every colour I’ve ever seen
I won’t be brave ’til you are all with me
I won’t be
I won’t be brave ’til I’ve seen
Every colour I’ve never seen and I want to
Be braver than you

If you want it
Oh you could have it
But you have to be honest now
About where you’re feeling it from

If you want it
Well you could have it
But you have to feed this feeling now
With all the sparks of your fire

Walking Wounded

Quite simply, a person who is never content in an adult relationship is one who never has his or her emotional needs sufficiently met as a child. This does not mean that one’s childhood has to have been experienced as something out of the tabloids. There does not have to have been gross negligence or abuse for a child to become an emotionally needy adult. Constant negativity and criticism are enough to destroy a child’s self esteem. Emotionally needy people are in a continuous search for someone who will satisfy the needs that were never met by one or both parents. There is nothing wrong with admitting being emotionally needy.

It’s the Way You Don’t Read Camus or Brett Easton Ellis

I just a found an awkward little birthday note from an old friend this morning. It was slipped in between the first pages of the accompanying present, a book I still haven’t read even until now. Awkward, yet sincere. Made me smile a bit.

Had I been too cruel to you, too many times? I hope not. But then, I would have to say it’s for your own good. Trust me.

Past Tense

Sometimes nostalgia gets the better of me and I stop to reminisce. Then I snap right back out. But it doesn’t really matter if I don’t. I like to meddle in my memories.

I wanted you then doesn’t equal I still want you now.
It equals wistful smiles, dried tears, laughs, life lessons,
and a hell lot of awkward encounters.

I Must’ve Sounded Like an Idiot, But I Still Think the Same Way

4/13/2009 8:53:39 PM me: kalo milih2
4/13/2009 8:53:46 PM me: kaya perlu ngebandingin
4/13/2009 8:53:47 PM me: compare
4/13/2009 8:53:50 PM me: which is better
4/13/2009 8:53:54 PM me: tapi kalo gak ada pilihan
4/13/2009 8:54:01 PM me: it’s because
4/13/2009 8:54:06 PM me: you can’t help it
4/13/2009 8:54:18 PM me: because every other option isn’t right
4/13/2009 8:54:20 PM me: karena
4/13/2009 8:54:30 PM me: it’s not something to be compared to anything
4/13/2009 8:54:43 PM me: begitulah kata pikiran lugu2 romantis gw
4/13/2009 8:54:44 PM you: as i said, refined
4/13/2009 8:54:53 PM you: no, it’s sweet and honest

We Are Family

I feel writing out things that have hurt me in the past in a public manner, or as I like to call ‘curhat ekshibisionis’, has some kind of therapeutic effect. It’s kind of like how I can say I was a fucking freakshow kid and laugh afterwards. Surprisingly refreshing.

So, yeah, one day I disagreed about how this particular girl was supposed to cook and take care of herself and her husband simply because she’s a woman. Which I meant out of the context of how she’s such an inconsiderate lazy ass bum who needs to be bitch slapped. Then I was told not to act all feminist-like because I’m a spoiled piece of shit that can’t do anything anyway.

I don’t exactly remember the exact words but I’m sure they were as flattering.


We never needed too much a time.
When it’s this right, who needs any?

Letters to Past Lovers, Vol. I

Happened around early March, your
taking me by surprise, your
sloppy little serenades, your
blind declarations of love, your
being still unhated even when it would have been easier otherwise.

Not even when your next month’s sudden withdrawal tainted our false hope, because it was never untainted, not even from the very start.



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