4.06.2013
Counting. @ 8:23 PMI can't count with my fingers the number of times I've looked at someone and instantly wanted to get to know them.
I can count with my fingers the number of people I've fallen asleep thinking about.
I can count with exactly one finger the number of persons I've said "I'm in love with you" to, and to this day, that is still true.
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3.23.2013
The Recollection of all Things @ 11:03 PMMy feet are cold, my hair is wet, and it doesn't feel like spring. The months have seemed like mere weeks actually, which scares me because I can't stop time at all. Or slow it down. And it's not like I can even distinguish days from other days if they happened so long ago. I'm just afraid of my life resulting in a long blur of faded pictures, stitched together but not dated.
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11:03 PM
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10.24.2009
@ 12:28 AMTwo months.
61 days.
Speechless.
Wordless?
feeling abandonment,
not being able to write a single thought.
not being able
to write a single letter.
...or even a dot dot dot to suggest that after 8 weeks of silence
there is more to come.
Self expression is a bitch at the dawn of another day
and to a caffeine dehydrated mind
and hesitant hands
the fallacy that exists in story-telling
because what is real
and imagined
is neatly shelved in disorganized stacks
of one's mind.
I am a dusty publication,
the omega in a tragic afterthought kind of way,
one that refuses
and refuses
and refuses
to accept.
Labels: contemplation
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12:28 AM
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8.23.2009
Looking Up @ 9:51 PMI think I know what we're looking for.
When I was little, I prayed for every chance to sleep under the stars. It's amazing, isn't it? To believe in things that we cannot even see. We're told that what's out there is unknown. And we learn to accept that these great things are so powerful, powerful enough to create a force of belief that radiate between humans and transcend the distance that eyes can perceive.
Then why do I look up and feel so lonely? Everything I know is down here, tugged by gravity onto solid ground.
What we're really looking for is for a friend who will see in the sky the same burned out stars and burning suns that we imagine and believe in. To look towards the same direction and create from doubt the imagination of all possibilities.
Labels: contemplation, Random
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9:51 PM
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8.16.2009
Peace out, Philippines @ 6:15 AMNot to outdo myself, but I as predicted, I started writing this
on a hammock (check)
using my laptop (check)
sipping a cold drink (check)
consumed by feelings of wanting to prolong time (and check).
Now I'm laying in my room, on my soon-to-be empty bed, listening to the hum of the air conditioner and feeling every bit of the hot summer air still.
And I have no words to describe this moment, except for maybe, this is life. I look forward to a tomorrow when I'll be able to call it wonderful again. :)
Labels: contemplation
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6:15 AM
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8.14.2009
my nothing words, my every thought @ 6:21 AMI've been restless, pacing back and forth, rearranging thoughts in my head in an endless attempt to find a more stable state. You know those stories about spontaneous combustion (yeah, I know, silly.), but it could happen to me sometime soon if I don't let this out, whatever it is that no words from any language or level of complexity can express. Well, maybe a poet's tongue, maybe an encyclopedia length book, maybe if I spoke 10 words per second and had about a week to say it. Or maybe if I could sit down long enough to write some 500 word entry with the best intentions and no reservations to say exactly how I feel.
I feel regret, I feel the words borrowed from fiction: "That’s been my problem. I miss what I already have, and I surround myself with things that are missing.” I'm running away from time, which is inescapable and downright unfair. I think in questions and somehow arrive at answers that every neurological connection derives from uncertainty and self-destructive imagination.
As of late, the first second of every waking moment jumps quickly to the thought of leaving, and the inevitable statement directed to myself, "damn it, I wish I could stay." The horizon I see is a negative empty space that looks as desolate as the spacial distance between the surface of the earth to the sun.
It get so bad, that every hello I say mentally projects the mirror image of a goodbye at the end. I want you, here, now, maybe for as long as forever if fate would have it. But what I really need is for you to say "hey, that empty horizon over there, it holds secrets that you'd be delighted to discover. Every person you've ever met, every emotion you've ever felt, all of that waiting for you to start walking toward it, and this is possible because that horizon, is still a place, not just an idea. Turn that fear of the unknown into curiosity."
God, I just need stability. I need certainty. I need tomorrow to meet today at a point where I'll be waiting, feeling okay.
Labels: contemplation, rant
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6:21 AM
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8.13.2009
Shatter and Break @ 11:16 PM
I feel like inside me,
the whole world is breaking,
breaking apart into continents
near the beginning,
after Pangaea,
before anyone ever realized
the shape of the world.
Or maybe it's just me that's breaking. And I know exactly why.
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11:16 PM
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8.12.2009
Love against the Night @ 6:30 AMIf tonight, the world can sleep
this restless shadow of mine,
awake,
will keep watch over you, love.
No sad lullabies of
sycamores and breeze
can lull a fluttering heart
to dream.
The days are clear as running water,
but the black night shall
rise in greed
to steal you in your sleep.
Stay.
We'll lay with a shroud,
covered in need of each other.
The warmth of cotton
will feel like the liberated
rays of the sun
the darkness has managed to erase.
Somewhere, we'll race
another twelve hours of the
watchful moon,
until, until, until
the night lets us go.
* * * * *
(I think I am slowly getting my poetic tongue back. :] )
Labels: contemplation, Poems
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6:30 AM
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8.06.2009
Relax and Recap and Relapse @ 9:54 PM[So apparently, everyday you learn something new. Today I learned and relearned a lot. ]
The heart has so much capability to love. You can give love away and get it back as easily like a perfectly thrown boomerang. You can let go of a bunch at once, in all directions, different speeds, varying distances.
I think I'm working on trying to be more optimistic? If life can't be objective, then you might as well take the place on stage with the best view.
The music I've been listening to screams profanity and anger, "fuck this, fuck that." Half the time, I don't even know what the lead singer's screaming about. We can all be dramatic. Live in a world of misplaced, broken, mirror-imaged antonyms. Today, I choose angry music, I choose mellow living, I choose happy thoughts.
I must be losing my mind (okay, this can mean three things), and maybe it does mean three things. All I know is that
1. I'm thinking crazier than ever.
2. Someone/place/thing else is keeping my thoughts.
3. My mind is maybe trying to run away from me.
Oh, and I'm borrowing this, because it sounds like bullshit and the convincing truth both at once:
"We all have the potential to fall in love a thousand times in our lifetime. It’s easy. The first girl I ever loved was someone I knew in sixth grade. Her name was Missy; we talked about horses. The last girl I love will be someone I haven’t even met yet, probably. They all count. But there are certain people you love who do something else; they define how you classify what love is supposed to feel like. These are the most important people in your life, and you’ll meet maybe four or five of these people over the span of 80 years. But there’s still one more tier to all this; there is always one person you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it happens eventually. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people, even if some of these loveable qualities are self-destructive and unreasonable. The person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and they’re often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really, want to love someone. But that person still wins. They win, and you lose. Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else."
Chuck Klosterman, Killing Yourself to Live
Labels: contemplation, Music, Random, rant
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9:54 PM
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8.05.2009
@ 9:26 PM
(the little praying mantis that landed on my Gatorade bottle, and had the nerve to play fight with me.)
Today I love,
sliced bananas on my morning's Coco Crunch and soy milk,
a silver moon, dilated as a pupil, hiding between clouds,
the baby lizard in my room that has managed to coexist with me,
Pablo Neruda's "If You Forget Me" poem
[...But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine...]
and feeling love.
currently playing: "Reunion" by Stars ("Tainted Love's too slow to dance to, so we'll leave them all behind")
Other recent musical acquisitions:
Bikini Kill
Peter Bjorn and John
Stars
No Doubt
Incubus
The Used
Spoon
The Noisettes
Portugal the Man
Barcelona
I'm thinking about auditing Filippenko's Astronomy 10 class just because I hear he's amazing, and of course, because it's astronomy.
If tomorrow the sun shines, I will trade in driving the Honda Civic for our Honda motorbike. This, I swear.
Labels: contemplation, Music, Random, Self
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9:26 PM
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8.02.2009
Words and Colors @ 9:43 PMCurrent song:
"Colors" by Barcelona,
She’s always waiting for me to speak
But all she hears is whitest noise
Though I may not communicate my
Heart, she knows the color I’m screaming
She makes my heart scream color
I know by now she should have found me out
Every sense I have has been exhausted
But color makes her smile
------------------------------
Life happens, even when you are sitting there, eyes flowing through words while imagining things. Funny thing is, I learn many profound things about life, just sitting with a good book and a cup of something throat-burning.
Updates on my so called "summer reading" list
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
Choke
Acquainted With the Night
Running With Scissors
The Tenth Insight by James Redfield
Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe
Recently, I've been adoring anything, well, wordy. And if it's not novel pages, it's photographs of words and letters landscaped to become unconventional. The downside to this is realizing that writer's block is a most painful affliction, the symptoms- obvious when the pen and paper are still unused after an hour or two of wanting to create something beautiful. (So yes, Brian Fennell, I know what you mean when you sing, "Trying to form the words that somehow might mean I am feeling".)
But anyway, I found this paragraph, from Betz White, and you can imagine the heavy feverish feeling of not being able to write, slowly being lifted off my chest. Because even if one can't write, one can read.
"I believe there’s a place in everyone’s life
real or imagined
in your mind or in your heart
in your backyard or far far away
where you are truly yourself.
Not defined by what you do or to whom you belong
but by the person you have always been deep down at the core.
The authentic you of your childhood, when long summer days stretched on forever.
When time stood still and there was nowhere to be but right where you were.
Fun and joy and life just happened."
Amen.
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7.30.2009
Texture @ 11:11 PM
can you guess what it is?...
...the inside of a water bottle
my yin and yang of cuteness
thank you for locking
Just today, I noticed how much in awe I could be, staring at the texture of everything, from cloth to foliage, animal skin and ground surfaces.
My 365 goal this year: a 1 photo a day of something abstracted. ( But of course, being my procrastinator self, I won't start until that Nikon D40 is purchased and mine, soon.)
Labels: Art, contemplation, photographs, Random
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11:11 PM
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7.16.2009
The Long Short Stories I Wish You Knew @ 6:53 AM
(just pulling thoughts from my journal):
Waiting
I wonder why, that feeling. Waiting? Sudden impulses to stand still, always in silence, always alone - on rooftops, under street lights, sitting on stairs, sinking in bed. Just waiting. It isn’t even as though words could explain that the vision of seeing ten feet ahead is just like looking five years down the road. No. Not at all.
The burden (or is it longing), of waiting for someone you have yet to meet? Defying the Montagues and Capulets, and sneaking out at night to stand on street corners. After a while you start to measure time by the number of passing cars, the length of green lights, the inch movement of 747’s in the sky - departures, arrivals, until what’s inside your chest is roaring louder than that engine flying overhead as you stand, waiting for a ‘hello’ to resonate to familiarity and rapid heartbeats. By daybreak, empty thinking has got you imagining that you’ve seen the future and it’s a blank face you wake up to, a blank face that mirrors your better half. A blank face, and it is all there is, all you know.
But if you’re not of the waiting-and-standing-still kind, then you must be the waiting- walking kind? You walk to meet someone somewhere, and sometimes the urge is so strong that you run, like ‘Run, Forrest, Run’ because you don’t know where to or who. A romantic on the road. Dangerous, amorous. And on street corners, you turn and bam…Collision.
Maybe I’ll meet you on one of those waits, maybe I have.
The point is, we meet, and I think that’s where our story begins.
-
Look closer. I am not an adult. Just a kid. With such great responsibilities.
-
Imagine that. Conversations with one’s mind happen mutely. Not even words. No. Images. Photographs. Stills. Visions in color, in black and white, in monochrome, in darkness, in light.
The output of thoughts running not on electrical ac/dc, but tactical wiring of aesthetic self-expression.
-
I don’t know why, but I
Always find myself staring at ceilings, at skies,
Anything directly overhead.
(and don’t you dare suggest it’s because of my height =P )
-
You know what gives me heavy boots? No matter how much you know someone, what is theirs can never be yours.
Or perhaps I’m just greedy that way.
-
I think we are part of the trendsetting culture. The ones who denounce fads just as others begin to embrace them; replace things even if they’re not broken, build layer upon layer of fresh ideas, stacked in a drawer and put away before dust begin to build up. We marvel at the oddities, lamenting the Joneses and the other Joneses next door. Are we part of the culture too impervious to evolution, too idle for another revolution? The ones who stay awake to create and destroy, but never settle, thus never satisfied; “tomorrow is so yesterday”. Why are we always one step ahead? What are we running away from? “Today is a toast for the day after the next,” and with that, a chuckle.
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7.11.2009
They Can't Love What I Don't Show; Lists @ 12:13 AM
There have been too many times when I’ve drowned you with these perfect lines
And you’ve heard me say that I can cure you
This morning I woke up with this overwhelming fear of love
And I’m not sure if I can resurrect you
I’m walking up to you so slowly
It’s about time, it’s about time to fly away, but wait
I swear it’s different cause I’m lonely
Fold your wings, you’ll need them more one day
- "It's About Time", Barcelona
*Note to Bianca and/or Melissa: your fiance/ my lover (Brian Fennell + group), in SF at Slim's on August 12, and we, are missing it.
also missing: Brand New @ Slim's and Azure Ray and Spinnerette @ GAMH.
Stalking Results Calendar:
The Honorary Title @ Bottom of the Hill, September 13
AC/DC @ San Jose, September 2 (but on a Wednesday night?!)
Treasure Island Music Festival, line up TBA, Oct. 17, 18
----------------------------
1. David Downton (http://www.daviddownton.com), I will be you someday.
2. Let me be shallow for just one second, and say that I love love love the return of matte pink or coral lipstick.
3. Does anyone know when we can start buying the Stanford vs. Cal football tickets? (Palo Alto this year, right? because Shri, you know what that means)
4. ASUC Art Studio now offering Plastic Camera Workshop and B/W and Color photography studio use.
5. I'm trying to figure out the best medium to use for thick black lines that sketchbook paper can take.
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12:13 AM
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7.09.2009
Glory Box @ 6:18 AM
ink on sketchbook, 07.09
I'm so tired, of playing
Playing with this bow and arrow
Gonna give my heart away
Leave it to the other girls to play
For I've been a temptress too long
Just. .
Give me a reason to love you
Give me a reason to be a woman
I just wanna be a woman
Glory Box: Portishead
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yF-GvT8Clnk
---------------------
I resent stereotypes.
I resent that just because I wear dresses with heels and run around like I was born wearing a set of 4 inch ones, a few would presume that I shriek at the sight of broken nails. I resent that just because I paint my nails red to match my red lipstick, or draw skirts in the shade of pink , that I can't prove my worth to be considered as brave as the average guy next door.
I resent that just because I can sprint fast or laugh as loud as anyone, a few would presume that I can take a punch and be okay with it. I resent that just because I can drive well, or never refuse an invitation for adventure, that I can be treated boyish, and without consideration that I play with dolls too.
I'd like to see traditional views redefined. Don't label me like a stickered vinyl record filed away under some stereotype that even you can't define.
:]
Labels: contemplation, Random, rant, Self