Like fire against rain

Goodbye my lovely N2.

What a pleasant day.

Against a pseudo lawn

Today I found out that the founders of Upsurge Productions are both chicks. Not only so, but they were only 21 when the idea first struck them in a shower. Oh you entrepreneurial, sexy sexy chicks.

Of course it made me feel small and unaccomplished but at the same time, it is inspiring as fuck. How often do you get to hear about two little women handling such huge bands?! Christ they're amazing.

So at the other end of the spectrum, what I am (instead!) doing is:

Am I proud of myself noooooooo.

Anyway, I suppose I've finally lost my inspiration to write so as I predicted, I would be dropping the whole "a sad prose every two days" thing. It takes way too long to sink myself into that misery now. Which is a good thing of course.

I've started back on my books. I'm excited as fuck for "restaurant at the end of the world" but for now I'm trying to finish my bukowski first. I saw him as a literary god for the quotes I read from him before - it is only in reading his madness word for word do you realize that this man is truly fucked up beyond belief and the only thing that can save him, the only thing that could ever save him, was writing

Also in one of my rare moments of un-angst, I came to conclude that what I will miss about my job is the little things. For example, my upper management had a fun little word-spar after reading this article about the oxford comma. So very amazing.

Back to the grind.

Picking up a pencil

I set out to draw my idea of a Lexi.

Lexi is woman of little words. Her hair is the color of blood and her eyes are perpetually set to kill. She has lips that begs to be worshiped and legs that go on for days. Her body, small and full, strains against itself in her bid for self-destruction.

She speaks only when she is spoken to and she goes wherever the wind takes her. But she is far from docile, no, it is indifference. A long time ago she has felt every single emotion in the world and now, everything she feels is a shade of what she has felt before.

What a terrible thing it is to be her.

Tried to draw her raw without an eraser and I hated her right eye and I hated the hard lines of her hair and more than anything else, I hated myself for being so bloody untalented. This was working!

Overloaded on the eraser and had to work over the indents from my previous harsh lines. Compared the two drawings and realized I preferred the former and almost kicked myself.

Gave her the color I thought she deserved but as it turned out, she probably belonged in the black and white world after all.

It took me immense courage to start drawing again. If you don't start, you can convince yourself that maybe you're good at it, you just don't know it yet. But when you start, you will begin to see clearly where your potential stretches till. 

I kept telling myself she's gonna hate me for every new stroke I added and every new gradient of color I offered. But in the end, she looks as she is supposed to, 

Inadequate.

What a fitting thing.

An open letter to you

Hello there.

How are you?

It's been a long time since we spoke and I don't think you care much for it anymore. But I just wanted you to know that I miss missing you.

I miss how easily I could plunge myself into misery every time I thought of you. I miss how quickly my mental capability crumbles when something reminiscent of you comes up. I miss how wearily my hands tremble when I torture myself looking through our pictures.

But now, all that seem to be a dream away.

I guess for the first time in a long while, I'm finally not sad. I guess for the first time in a long while, I can see people as they are, instead of as distractions. I guess for the first time in a long while, thoughts of you settled peacefully in my mind instead of the usual storm they rage.

But I know this won't last. As with all things, this too will go away soon enough. All I need to do is fuck it up and it would leave me alone with my misery again.

I knew I found my inspiration to write the day I lost you.

But now I'm struggling to even spin a line.

I'm not saying you're no longer important to me.

No, you are still the unreachable constellation in my every sky, the scar of anguish down my throat in every breath, the brilliant smell before rain and the expired blood in my veins.

Time is trying to work its magic. Time is trying to get me to relinquish my position as the keeper of our memories.

The guilt. The guilt has finally let me go.

(but I don't know how to be free)

Partner for the road

Ordinarily, today would be me grumbling and hauling a chair off the pool dining set and stationing it atop the table so that I can take lame selfies for the paper. But today pam chowder decided to join me and we ended up setting many more photoshoot dates.

YES I HAVE FOUND SOMEONE VAIN AS ME!

Bring me to life

4am is not for the happy.

4am is for the stranded and the frustrated.
4am is for tongue-biting and fist clenching.
4am is for poisonous thoughts and ill-timed reflections.

4am is a time for sleep, so why can't I head the fuck to bed already.



Well.

I might have spent a bit too long rereading my old tumblr reblogs. I might have spent a bit too long rereading my old blog entries. I might have opened the can of worms I had so carefully sealed.

Is it too much to wait for a love to revolutionize me? 

See, I don't care for half-fucked efforts or half-hearted tries. I want his whole fucking world and I want his touch to set me on fire and burn all the way through. I want a love that consumes me and I want an adventure that feeds my thirst while whetting my appetite.

Or do I?

The trail of destruction in my wake certainly disagrees.

Jesus Christ I need to sleep.

In a nutshell

You were all the delight of an afternoon sun - you were the reason to live, the reason I breathe, all that I see.

When you left, my skies gathered and whirled into an ominous, frightful storm. It raged on, trying to exile my memories of a better afternoon.

It didn’t know.

That you were the blood in my veins.
You were the smell before rain.

And I will never fear anything again.

All I want

Many times we don't know what we want. We are convinced we want fast cars and faster chicks. We are adamant we want pretty roses and prettier men.

But that's not true.

I will tell you the one thing every man has thirsted for since the dawn of time.

Truth

The complete, naked truth.

It takes a while for most people. Takes a while for them to agree with that. On a good day I tell myself, "As long as I don't find out, I don't care."

That's not true. There's a shit-ton of distance between that and the truth.

The truth is, I want to know everything honest.

The truth is, I wish I can tell everyone what's on my mind all the damned time.

The truth is, what I cannot handle will not break me, it will (eventually) build me.

The truth is, nothing burns better than a half-hearted and badly-conceived lie.

So why go through fire with a lie, when you can go through the same with a cold, hard truth?



There is a damage that transcends the physical body onto the mind. There is a higher destruction that wrecks the mind and poisons the soul.

My demons are my friends and I would drink with them, only if they didn't try to stab me with my memories every single time I teeter on the edge. But the joke's on you, you demonic thoughts.

You can't push a desperate girl over the edge.

You can't expect her to be sad over the idea of an endless abyss.

Especially when she's already there.

The dead needs us to remember them

I tried explaining why I wasn't happy

I am content being unhappy

I am happy being unhappy

Being unhappy means I still remembver how to feel
Being unhappy is the sole link I have left to my past

And if I let go of my past
Who is going to remember it

(ni.)

Driving a dream

My sister is going slowly berserk with excitement over the idea of owning a car license and it is starting to infect me. But we want the license for two starkly different purposes.

She wants it for the purpose of driving around with her homies and all.

I want it for a variety of reasons.

It starts with me being able to go on long drives on dinosaur-powered magic from Singapore to Bedok just so I can have ba chor mee. Okay who am I kidding, I'm really thinking about Timbre when I wrote this.

It starts with me being able to play all my favourite songs in my car and break my neck jamming to them as I whip ma hair back and forth and threaten the safety of fellow road users when the chorus of Daisy from Brand New plays.

If you happen to be affiliated with BBDC and you are stumbling upon this, please note that I am actually a meticulous darling. I arrange my wardrobe in segments of color, and in the color segment they would be arranged by sleeve length, and in the sleeve length segment they would be arranged by apparel length.

So yes jesus christ I will be meticulous as shit when I drive k.

(sidenote: holy fuck it is 2.20am and it sounds like someone is outside my door trying to steal my shoes. COME BACK WHEN YOU HAVE SIZE 3 FEET ASSHOLES. YOU CAN LEAVE YOUR RECOMMENDATIONS OF STORE STOCKING SIZE 3 SHOES AT THE DOOR THANK YOU)

Whooosh I'm a puff of wind. I am a wind carrier. I AM AN AVATAR. WINDBENDER.

To carry on.

It starts with me being able to drive out my grandma because whenever we go out, I know she wants to buy certain things but my aunt will discourage her to because she has so many of it already. And I know my place as a filial, respectful (unnecessary info) niece means I should keep quiet.

And I know my place as a sexy redhead (also unnecessary info) salaried adult means I can bring my grandma back to these places (if I drive I'd be able to surprise her without giving her the end location) and buy whatever she wanted to buy, one in every color!

Woohoo! And then I can send her home heh heh. Life goals!

And it ends with being able to drive to meet everyone I ever wanted to meet who is lazy or is dotaing at home or doing some other crap less interesting than going out for a drink with me.

Although the drinking sort of kills the driving bit.

Dammit I need better thought out posts.

A medley of colors

red is the color of your passion
hungry, fiery and indomitable

blue is the color of your voice
calm, assuring and reassuring

yellow is the color of your smile
putting every sun in the universe to shame

but then you left, taking my colors with you
and now

all I am left with

is

(ni.l)

I kept alcohol at bay for a while

because I was convinced

that life is clearer

without a glass

but then it started

at my first buzz I remembered everything

the high before a fall

the temporary ecstasy worth it all

like a dam ravaged by the ghost of a storm

I fell in wild desperation

the answers to all of life's problems

is not beyond the glass

but at the bottom of it instead

(ni.l)