IT’S BLITZ!

PW IS FINALLY OVER
NAT AND I GOT 4TH ROW TICKETS FOR THE YEAH YEAH YEAHS
WHICH MEANS FROM HERE STRAIGHT ON LIFE IS GONNA BE GOOD!!!!!

oh but

the arts council board is finally up!

switchblade

now that school’s out, i feel very listless and lost. i am sitting in my room with the curtains shut listening to depressing music. i am slightly hungry. i am not wearing pants. it’s strange though, because i expected myself to be much happier now that i don’t have to wake up at ungodly hours every day and slog over neverending math tutorials (why am i even complaining about math tutorials, i don’t ever do them. also when i was supposed to type ‘math’ i typed ‘meth’ accidentally instead. i think this constitutes as a freudian slip) but now i’m just like….oh. ok.

feel like eating frittata all of a sudden
i have dental in 2.5 hours. eugene my dentist will say reproachfully as he always does, ‘you’re late’ and i will say ‘i am not late. everybody else is simply early.’ which i never do in the end
and also i think that quote does not make sense in that scenario

i think this is
i think this is
looking forward to and dreading something with the exact same force such that you end up in an uneasy equilibrium which makes you feel kind of squished and claustrophobic

no lucifer

Protected: lion’s mane

This post is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Password:

even the good wood gone

Max found a pen and began:

I WANT Gary to fall into some kind of bottomless hole.
I WANT Claire to get her foot caught in a bear trap.
I WANT Claire’s friends to die by flesh-eating tapeworms.

Then he stopped. His father had explained that the journal was for positive wants, not negative wants. When you wanted something negative, it didn’t count, he said. A want should improve your life while improving the world, even if just a little bit.
So Max began again:

I WANT to get out of here.
I WANT to go to the moon or some other planet.
I WANT to find some unicorn DNA and then grow a bunch of them and teach them to impale Claire’s friends with their horns.

Oh, well. He could erase it later. Just writing it felt good. But now he was sick of writing. He wanted to do something. But what did he want to do? This was the central question of this day and most days.

soft shock

That Day, the saucers landed. Hundreds of them, golden,
Silent, coming down from the sky like great snowflakes,
And the people of Earth stood and
stared as they descended,
Waiting, dry-mouthed, to find out what waited inside for us
And none of us knowing if we would be here tomorrow
But you didn’t notice because

That day, the day the saucers came, by some some coincidence,
Was the day that the graves gave up their dead
And the zombies pushed up through soft earth
or erupted, shambling and dull-eyed, unstoppable,
Came towards us, the living, and we screamed and ran,
But you did not notice this because

On the saucer day, which was zombie day, it was
Ragnarok also, and the television screens showed us
A ship built of dead-men’s nails, a serpent, a wolf,
All bigger than the mind could hold,
and the cameraman could
Not get far enough away, and then the Gods came out
But you did not see them coming because

On the saucer-zombie-battling-gods
day the floodgates broke
And each of us was engulfed by genies and sprites
Offering us wishes and wonders and eternities
And charm and cleverness and true
brave hearts and pots of gold
While giants feefofummed across
the land and killer bees,
But you had no idea of any of this because

That day, the saucer day, the zombie day
The Ragnarok and fairies day,
the day the great winds came
And snows and the cities turned to crystal, the day
All plants died, plastics dissolved, the day the
Computers turned, the screens telling
us we would obey, the day
Angels, drunk and muddled, stumbled from the bars,
And all the bells of London were sounded, the day
Animals spoke to us in Assyrian, the Yeti day,
The fluttering capes and arrival of
the Time Machine day,
You didn’t notice any of this because
you were sitting in your room, not doing anything
not even reading, not really, just
looking at your telephone,
wondering if I was going to call.
-Neil Gaiman
*
ANYONE GOING FOR YEAH YEAH YEAHS?????? I GOT A DATE WITH THE NIGHT~

no smiling darkness

everyone’s talking about taking H3s and becoming OGLs and applying for law programmes and i feel dreadfully horrible and mediocre.

my plan for the future (i related this to jiamin today over froyo) involves me finding a really good dealer who would provide me with a steady supply of weed/acid at a good deal, just enough for me to use while writing my incredibly shocking/provocative/trippy/BUT STILL GENIUS debut novel/magnum opus which will COMPLETELY REVOLUTIONALIZE the way we see the world and will be an ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATING relation of the human condition. critics will fawn at my feet while frothing at the mouth. much like harper lee who only wrote one novel and shut herself up for the rest of her life, i will deign to give any interviews/tv appearances so as to maintain my enigmatic persona. i will then use all the money i have earned (rough estimate of a few million at least) to buy a castle in scotland and live there by myself for the rest of my life learning to play the bagpipes.

okbai

my hands are cold

“She’d never understand me because I like too many things and get all confused and hung up running from one thing to another ‘til I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anyone except my own confusion.”
-Jack Kerouac, On The Road

…woah

admittedly, being seventeen does not feel much feel much different from being sixteen. turning a year older, in my opinion, is just a way to justify adults telling you that you are edging closer and closer into accepting responsibilities, shouldering a newfound maturity that sits slightly awkward with your body. you totter under the weight of this impossible thing that you are supposed to accept overnight. when i woke up on the 22nd of october, my feet did not dangle over the ends of my bed. my hair was not any longer. i did not look any older. my voice did not sound any different. i do not know if anyone expects anything from me but i am beginning to think that whatever it is, i will not be able to deliver it. this is something the 16 year old me and 17 year old me are in agreement on.
but let’s face it: this is all my own doing, my gradual undoing. i imagine myself being peeled like a mandarin orange. the white skin from the fruit gets under my fingernails and i walk around smelling like a citrus fruit, its so strong you could probably conduct electricity with it. or something. i don’t know. i was never all that good at chemistry or whatever highly complex branch of science that falls under. all i know is this: i spend a good half of my life thinking about things that never were, and the other half thinking about things that could be. i am trapped between two dimensions that do not exist and one day if i do not watch my step i will disappear-zip!-altogether from this reality that i feel so loosely grounded in.
i guess i am scared. of nothing. not of nothingness, but the very word ‘nothing’, it denotes a scary gaping emptiness (but in my mind it has a face, and sinister cold mocking eyes). i am scared i will be sucked into that nothing. that one day i will be and the next i will be not. i used to have these dreams about waking up in the north pole. due to those dreams i wore socks to bed because i didn’t want to catch frostbite on my feet. i do realize it was a futile effort. now i have dreams about being nothing.