![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
psychotelepathy
Stream of Unconsciousness
I'm not gonna just sit here and rot. I'm going to lie down and rot.
- The need to rant
-
- psychotelepathy
- March 12th, 0:00
morose
Perhaps the need to rant is an innate property in the human soul. (if there actually is sth as a 'soul')
I guess I have to clarify that
Need is a form of necessary want.
(or rather)
Want is a needless need.
Stick to which makes more sense to you.
To give myself some visual space.
Due to lack of audiences I'll have to announce, to the whole wide world (otherwise known as THE www), my mishaps. My life is unfortunately a stream of diluted, bland uneventfulness. And I'm spending great efforts to deal with it.
*lets out a longgggggg whine of the overused 'life sucks' in a teeny angsty tone* (you know, everyone goes through this stage of life)
I do have the tendency to dwell into intricate thoughts, so much so it's tormenting and tiringly irritating. I wish I could exert more control over my brain here.
But this doesn't ease the situation of perpetual uneventfulness and hence, boredom. Because it is under such circumstances that random (seemingly useless) thoughts formulate in one's mind, no?
It feels, with increasing frequency that there's another 'me' overlooking and assessing a situation I was in at a particular locality and time. But rest assured I'm not hearing voices and am not on the brink of schizophrenza. (Hopefully)
The point is, there's no point.
So what's the point of babbling? You ask. It's precisely there's no point at all that humans tend to dwell in a whole spectrum of activities. I'd LOVE to get busy. You know, the sense of 'life' flooding my very cells! The surges of energy that empowers me when I do things!
Yea yea, you know.
And more currently I'm pondering the existence of something beyond, a field of study, completely untouched and undisturbed by human knowledge. But this thought is ironic in nature. If there really is such things you won't even know if they exist.
(well but then I can truly say I 'don't know' about the something because I can't even identify it)
No no let's not digress. I do believe, or am very much inclined to believe the limits of human understanding.
Try visualising a 4-Dimensional figure. Try creating a world completely detached from this worldly reference. Try looking beyond our universe and beyond. Try envisioning the end of time.
Grand Plan to Stand
Thanks to the circumstances of boredom or perhaps the unfathomable workings of my grey matter, it feels like a grand plan is formulating in my head. Like a egg hatching, waiting earnestly to spring into life. Let's hope the foetus doesn't suffer premature death.
I take the responsibility to bring my great inspiration into realisation. Yes in fact few gooey ideas are scribbled down. Nothing can stop me now! Muahahhaahahaha. *dry evil laughter*
Gratifying my senses for the greater good of community.
Safe and lame in this sane asylum.
Breathing through my and our magnificent hypocrisy.
- Random vague things
-
- psychotelepathy
- February 16th, 0:24
It's going to be another one of those times where your head feels brimming, floaty, muddled and yet about to explode, isn't it? After a cup of cheap cup of latte at some bourgeois restaurant it felt like I'm energized and tired and heavy and floaty at the same time. I guess special beverages really do cloud your senses, no?
Don't all things do?
Cloud our senses.
Everything's but an illusion.
Believe in nothing!
There's no 'me' and 'you'.
There's no 'real' and 'unreal'.
By the way, I suspect I have some sort of obsession with dualism somewhere deep down.
Real, fake.
Existence, non-existence.
Peace, brutality.
Love, hatred.
Logical, illogical.
But I'm a person of moderation. Maybe my brain's wired into a tangled, fickle ball of contradictions. Yes, contradiction gets me all the time.
Don't you just LOVE contradictions. Paradoxes. Something an mathematic equation doesn't pacify. Or do they?
Godammit. EVERYTHING'S FUCKING RELATIVE.
So there's so 'yes' or 'no'. Only 'more yes' as compared to a 'more no'.
How about unbalancing all our equations? How about dismantling the lego city we've painstakingly pieced together? How about watching your hard-earned dollar bills burn? How about....? How about nothing at all?
(does this question even make sense? I mean if there is to be nothing at all, why even bother suggesting something non-existent?*(^%$%!@* *self-inflicted dilemma)
On a random and utterly irrelevant note, I watched Matrix 3 today. And is utterly disappointed. Wtf piece of shit is this? *%^$%^$_@(#*@
10+min long of senseless over the top cheesy special effects of machine guns shooting and evil squiddies fight? And not to mention grease-dripping scene of oracle and child on endless lush plains looking into the ridiculously colourful sky?
Not a fan. 7 year-old sci-fi fanatics miiiiiiiight be satisfied.
I can't express enough how agonising it is to have something in mind, forming and bubbling and have it slip pass your mind the next instant. Inspiration slipping.
- Short piece
-
- psychotelepathy
- February 15th, 23:41
Red roses
dark crimson roses
sleeping on my hands, tender
clinging onto my skin, gentle
trickling down the gaps of my fingers
seeping into my veins
mourning for you
through soft breathy whispers.
Improvised attempt at improving my friend's improvised poem.
- Needs to lay my fingers on something more intangible.
-
- psychotelepathy
- February 12th, 23:21
mellow
Chinese New Year is the time of celebration. Joyyyyyyyy.
You know, you can never get enough of that feeling of being reminded of the unbearable passing of time. Each reminder that years run in repetition is sheer thrill. Sometimes festive occasions just induce this facial expression in many: :-| I guess this year's going to be just the same. Change a little tit and tat.
Jazz kind of kicks in.
Sarah Vaughan. Billie Holiday. And so many more. Shoop shoop shoo ba de boo, shoopa shoopa de buba willie bob.
I'd like some more time to be spent on reading. Somehow reading seems more and more important to me now. Much more.
Sometimes I want my mind to be like an endless stretch of compartments and shelves. Take anything from anywhere anytime I need to use anything in my mind. With some flawlessly efficient system that works like a candy grabber.
Sometimes I wonder where I'd put my other things then. Those un-categorize-able pieces. Would I slip them into the walls between the endless shelves, or would I leave them floating around, above, beneath, in front of, behind those shelves?
Then my flawlessly efficient system starts to collapse. Crumble to its unrecognisable remnants like a majestic implosion. Those pieces, powdery, dusty, floaty, soft, hard, dirty, messy, intricate, simple....then inserts themselves into tiny fibers in my brain. Right and left hemisphere.
Some kind of membrane wraps these pieces up. It glistens under the tiniest sources of light. Warm and gooey the pieces are preserved. Like a foetus in a womb, sucking on nutrients and life, waiting to be born.
Having quite blurted out all these incoherent, ineffable gibberish, I feel like a true modern writer.
- 文字是游戏
-
- psychotelepathy
- February 1st, 21:56
教育是系统
系统是控制
控制是压抑
压抑是无助。
睡眠是宝贵
宝贵是梦境
梦境是自由。
妄想是燃料
天空是辽阔
凡人是犯人
校服是正经
言语是伪善
现实是假象
亲密是遥远
遥远是直线
直线是扭曲
扭曲是圆圈
圆圈是泡影
泡影是日子
日子是无奈
意义是徒劳
感官是幻觉
幻觉是妄想
妄想是自由。
- Would you think twice of the chicken you're going to eat if you witnessed the slaughterhouse?
-
- psychotelepathy
- January 24th, 0:51
Would you?
Would you?
I should present a letter of suggestion to the Ministry of Education to propose for school trips in primary and secondary schools to the slaughter house for character development and civic moral education. Will your child be disgusted at the sight of meat or will he or she go on eating the delicious finger lickin' chickens upon his plate?
And if the ministry should refuse, why so? Because the sights in the slaughter house are too apalling and gruesome for the young and may cause trauma or other psychological effect? Or because polite society doesn't allow for their dirty brutal secrets to be exposed before the eyes of the blissfully ignorant? Because people will start feeling disgusted at the thought of eating meat and affect the meat industry? Or is it because of a guilty conscience?
Ohhhhhh no of course not. Meat is just meat. We eat meat for sur-vai-val. But of course. Let's chop off your dear Fluffy or Baby or Snowy's limbs for dinner or rather, for survival.
Let a film of the life of a chicken/cow/pig/duck/goose in collective farm from birth to the point of slaughter be broadcasted on the billboard. Images of chicken's peaks being clipped off, lame cows being electrocuted, thousands of geese crowding in a cram shed, cows being milked until their nipples are bruised and pus go into the tubes together with the milk, lame pigs being dragged onto trucks for transportation...... Let their blood dye your hands and mouth.
No, no, of course we are not guilty. We just buy and eat what we can get in the market! How can we ever be guilty of ANYTHING? We only consume, consume, consume. Because the whole world consumes, consumes and consumes.
Would you think twice of the honey-glazed bbq chicken wing you are going to eat if you witnessed the slaughter house?
I would really like to visit one.
Bon apetit.
- Cheap thrills for sale!
-
- psychotelepathy
- January 24th, 0:30
contemplative
FEEL GOOD this brand new season!
Cheap thrills, sick chills for sale! Plus a free gift of a randomly picked piece of living thing if you present your membership card!
First come first serve! That's right, that's how we sell humanity! Until there's not a grain left!
Hurry! Get your piece of action while stock lasts!
YOU KNOW YOU WANT IT BECAUSE WE'RE ALL FUCKING HEDONISTS.
A subtle but somehow overwhelming surge of what seems like 'inspiration' washed over me all of a sudden, but all I could do was to remain motionless, gathering my stength and finally slouching over this monstrous device and smashing my fingers over the keyboard. To be absolutely frank these situations can be really taxing. It's like your head is spinning in full speed but all you could do was to try capturing bits of its essence with minimum physical energy.
If holidays are for one to unwind and indulge in relaxation, I guess my relaxing days are coming to a tragic, abrupt end. But I seriously doubt I would ever stop 'indulging' my senses in pleasures. Finding cheap thrills and instant gratifications to rid myself of boredom (but fruitlessly most of the time, hence the evolving of baseless frustrations)
The main difference between holidays and non-holidays is,imho, the presence of restraints of a certain timetable/schedule which you have to abide by and most importantly the overbearing presence of 'work'. It basically makes no difference since the time we are not spending on work is spent on seeking pleasures. (or carrying leisure activities or relaxing, to put things in terms used by polite society)
In conclusion there is no real difference. No extraordinary significance. No escape.
Speaking of which, lallalalalallaaaHAHAHAHAHAHAAHEHHEHOHOEHHEHUHUHEHEHEH HA.
Just joking.
The more I think of it the more I believe the foundation of civilisation (as we perceive it today) is based upon hypocrisy. Everything built on this thin fragile sheet called hypocrisy. Humans treading on tightropes of relationships. Once this fine delicate sheet cracks, everything comes tumbling after, crumbling. Like Jack and Jill up on a hill to fetch a pail of water. But what does it take for everything to dissolve? The push of a button to fire a nuclear bomb? The thrust of the pelvis to the beat of Lady Gaga's track? The stomp of an angry foot?
These will stay as they are, because the unspoken rules of hypocrisy are embedded on the back of every human brain. We will go hush hush. Hushhhhhhhh.
Speaking of which, does these colours remotely remind you of the Joker?
'That in some sick way, the Joker exists because of me' -------Batman
Woah, this line really had me going XD
Yes, they will fight to the end of time. You know, the yin and yang thing. One can't live without the other.
Like opposites, a polarity, a duality.
Yet they both are the same.
I loveeeeeeee how the Joker presents himself to the world in his starkbeautyinsanity. No strings could pull him down. No rules apply to him. Having FUN all the time. FUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN (fades off)
- Trippy dream
-
- psychotelepathy
- January 18th, 22:32
I was in the Observers' Room, with 24 or so small units of LCD screens put together to form a huge one across the walls of the room, controller buttons with neon lights and whatnots situated below the screen. Just imagine you are in a sci-fi-ish room. Around me were all professors in white lab robes walking around busying themselves with files and various documents at hand.
The screen displayed various images of different rooms in different angles. Clinically white rooms with minimal human furnishing. Apparently I was one of the researchers or professors in an the surveillance room of an asylum. News of a patient on the loose broke into the surveillance room. In the next instant every screen was tuned to track that patient's every movement and whereabouts. Amidst the mess of flashing images on the screens, one struck painfully clear to me. It showed an emaciated man in his 30s or 40s with frizzy, unkempt hair wearing white pyjamas. He ran maniacally, dragging a small blond boy about 8 in his hand. He ran and ran, looking back occasionally to see his imaginary chasers. The boy, obviously not able to catch up with his speed, became almost inanimate and bobbed up and down to the man's violent dash.
The madman broke through the wooden door to the emergency exit. Another screen showed a never-ending whirling and spiraling staircase in monochrome. Without a thought he ran, almost stumbled, slid, dashed down the stairs. Down and down he went. The boy, hand still tightly gripped by the madman, whose strength had long been exhausted from the run, seemed unconscious and bobbed up and down like a lofty plushie. The pair seemed to have been absorbed into a downward vortex of acceleration.
Then, the boy's head came loose and was detached from his neck. The head rolled. The madman came to an abrupt stop. Everything, the speed, the whirling vortex of staircase, came to a halt. The man held the boy's body before him in disbelief, staring intently at it as if it was something dear.
"The boy's body is cold. I am left alone," [Close-up on madman's shocked face] Suddenly out of nowhere, subtitles appeared on one of the LCD screens.
Every professor in the surveillance room stared into the screen with jaws wide open, as if watching an old school black and white psychological horror flick. But everyone knew this was real and happening.
As if woken from an absent-minded daze, the madman sprung into action again, running down to the acceleration of gravity, still holding on to the boy's cold, lifeless body.
- Rot
-
- psychotelepathy
- December 28th, 2009
blah
There is something about scratching my face. There is something to it that is absolutely irresistible and gratifying. My fingertips/ fingernails would make its way to my face on its own accord without me even realising. Then it runs across the surface of my face, occasionally applying a sharp force on a targeted spot. I also peel my scarred skin. And then the blood oozes out of the exposed pore, breathing in the sickly white fluorescent light. An illusion of me clearing myself of impurities beneath my skin weaves before me every time. But in fact I was only immersing in the whole fucked-upness of it all. Like in a situation of hyper-awareness of being fucked up but just couldn't seem to stop the self-inflicted fucked-upness. Okay I admit the tenth-of-a-milli-second pain that comes with it can be quite...uh refreshing. (if that is the closest word I could get) JUST FUCKING STOP. My hands won't listen!
I go gaga over a slash of strawberry black cherry whipped cream cake that yearns to be cut into pieces by a shiny silver blade and turns into a pile of goo.
- Merry fckin' X'mas?
-
- psychotelepathy
- December 26th, 2009
predatory
Belated wishes for all. Christmas every year had been spent quite slightly differently, but not extremely differently either. For this year I had a so-called 'xmas meal' with my aunt at New York New York, the one at City Link. No turkeys involved. I hate a lemon sauced fish which was a little too sour, due to my excessive lemon squeeze or not, and a plastic cup if mango lime juice that tasted like too much mango and lime syrup. In addition, I had dessert 'chocolate lake' last, which I think I'd either choke and die of sweetness overload if the lake ever flooded the restaurant. And dying was never good, mind you. Overall a quite disappointing xmas meal. Not to mention my aunt's rubbery medium well done steak. Absolutely not 'su-te-ki'. (jap pun) But O well the clam chowder in bread might have saved the meal a little.
We always learn lessons the hard way. I think it took me long enough to get myeslf disillusioned of most, if not almost all, local restaurants. They cheat your money and your goodwill, your willingness to believe in the good actually existing in local food. So many restaurants emerging like bushes in the jungle, none or almost none of them good enough for a canopy. Be very cautious of 'branded food'. Now I have no place to place my faith on local food, especially after my faith had been shattered so many times over and over.
FIVE days to hk trip as well as new year. Can't wait. For the hk trip. (not very looking forward to 2010 though, but there ARE things to look forward to, still) Let's hope everything goes well. Time and again I dreamt of me being in this trip and forgetting to bring something important. First my notebook, then everything I've painfully prepared, and then my notebook, (as in laptop), then finding myself growwwwwwling in agony in hk. No, no, no, I ain't gonna let it happen.
I feel my sense of adventure and excitement from the thought of getting lost in an unfamiliar (well, relatively) place prickling under my skin, slowly awakening and re-igniting as the day draws near. I sincerely hope I wouldn't end up too lazy/ passive/ can't be bothered to go out and being stuck at home for the short days in hk.
On a side note, I'm getting more and more into Diamanda Galas. Or rather her songs are growing onto me more. I find the songs (particularly Wild Women with Steak-Knives) rather repulsive (in a disturbing way) at first, but that is particularly what draws me in. Maybe it's my inner masochist. I kinda enjoy women shrieking into my ears :D (eg. Miss Violetta) But undeniably Diamanda Galas' songs are addictive in the strangest sense.
There is no right and wrong in music, so it opens up to infinite possibilities. Which could be quite painful as well. It blurs and burns my judgment as to whether or not to consider some music as trashy or bad or extremely elegant or horrible or nasty or refined or tacky or beautiful or wonderful or........Of course in this context I'm taking downright trashy contemporary mainstream pop that couldn't remotely count as 'music' out of the picture. I believe things like these will go as my perspective broaden and deepen.
Could both be achieved at the same time with the same magnitude anyway? It seems to me that if you go for one, you would have to compromise the other to some extent. Which is quite regrettable. Given such short 'time' humans have, it's hard to achieve both. But most importantly I guess it's the spirit of exploring that cannot be compromised at all times. (Look who's talking.)
Yesssssss, I'm a fucking hypocrite because whatever I've said or are going to say or are hatching in my head are just thoughts. Thoughts which I don't necessarily STAND FOR. But I guarantee I DO mean what I say most of the time. You see, theory and practically has a wide gap of miles that needs to be overcome. It's just that I haven't garnered enough.. uh, determination or strength or even courage to do so. My point is what I truly mean what I say, but that doesn't mean I practice what I preach either.
I LOVE so many things. Sometimes I wish I just knew EVERYTHING. But of course, regrettably, it has remained to be solely wishful thinking. I wish I could transform my 'ahh.. wouldn't it be great if I could do this this this' into "!!! I really WANT want to do THIS!!!" (Again I'm wishing) I guess I'm in this ambiguous state of being too caught up with myself, as well as being too lazy to accomplish anything at all. My grey matter remains squeasy and fluid for the time being. (which is a good thing perhaps?)
On a side side side side note, my fangirl sentimentality has somehow ignited/ revived/ EXPLODED at the back of my head sometime during the holidays. FULL BLOWN, FULL SCALE. Hmm, I don't really have much opinions on this issue, though. LOL.
P.S. Joker loves Batsy and Batsy loves him too <3
- thuh pheuck
-
- psychotelepathy
- December 12th, 2009
It's been a while. My brain had been whirling to the point I have to pen it down to sooth the nerves a little. Ah, the crispy sounds of keyboard tapping. I apologise in advance for the gibberishness of this post. This is supposed to be all about my personal piece of brain.
Talking to a friend made me realise how I (and this generation of people) rely on their computers for 90% of their indoors entertainment. Fast food fast entertainment. Andrenaline rush. What happens after that? Like a pulse that's gone dead. You want more andrenaline rush. Faster, faster, faster. Google search what you want. Get it the next instant. Too troublesome if it takes any longer. The colourful lights flashing before my eyes are so fascinating. I want more of it. Faster, more colourful, overwhelm all of my senses. Drown me and feed me with what I want. I want to disgust myself with these stupid, downright blatant, obscene, tacky, artless, trashy entertainment. We are all a masochists to some extent. Feed me more and more, so I won't get bored. I don't wanna get bored, so I keep on feeding, keep on getting bored, keep on feeding. It's futile.
There is a star in the sky. It's flickering. Just like my brain. Twinkle twinkle... It is distant, flickering, blinking to me, calling out for me to reach for it. But I just stare.
Till now this question has been fascinating and bothering me inexplicably. Why do humans tend to be drawn towards 'perverted' things? The notion of 'perverse' is in the most common, socially accepted standard in this context. Even the urge to want to read some really juicy and scandalous murder/rape/celebrity crap news etc. The desire to torture. Weird unthinkable fetishes. Is the desire for 'perverted' gratification part of 'human' instincts too?
Suddenly many lines in me seem to have blurred. Feels like I can do whatever I want. Feels like all social standards are insignificant.
'Insanity is like gravity. All it takes is a push of a fingertip'
No, my subconsciousness is telling me all I'm going to do is lie down and sink into passivity.
- goodnight, punpun.
-
- psychotelepathy
- November 15th, 2009
- contemplative
Looking at the screen with blurred vision I suddenly had the feeling the words i've typed so far are worthless particles filling the incessant void of the Interwebz. I wonder if people are like that too. Words can be so so superfluous at times. In fact at many times.
Haha, after such a long time, I'm back here again, when I thought I'd most probably never going to touch this site again.
No one can know for sure.
It feels like any other december holiday where a normal day would be spent rotting at home, facing the computer. Makes me feel all nostalgic. Today's weather is quite chilly too, pleasantly enjoyable if I ignore the runny nose just now.
A special kind of feeling.
Oyasumi Punpun always evokes a special kind of feeling in me. Words can't seem to describe it so i won't try to describe it with words. It is such a masterpiece. I think a punpun lives in a tiny or large part of everyone. (Somehow the Flaming Lips really suits the atmosphere of Oyasumi Punpun) A surge of feelings always rises whenever I read it. Ahhhh. (Shall refrain from getting into a long winded elaborate book review on Punpun)
For some reason I have the urge to recommend this to ak. Maybe I have to urge to recommend anything nice to him. I shall when I see him. Hmm.
Oh yes. How could I afford not to mention something of such importance in my life? It's the end of O's and the start of my holidays and to a lot the 'start of liberation'. Funny how I always dont mention the 'major events'. How liberated can you get after O's? How free, how happy, how relaxed, how pleasant, how carefree can you get after the O's? Maybe it;s the pessimism in me but I find it funny how some can feel feel so over the rainbow. Maybe that 'I'm FREEEEEEEEE!!!!' feeling just didn't strike me, much.
"Life goes on.' is such a powerful saying, it's like the law of mankind.
In fact everything ended a lil too 'just like that'. Something like what I could expect. Well I'm just glad exams are over. Momentary bliss. Empty days ahead for me to fill. Ahhhhhh. The world doesn't seem to have changed because the O's are over. So do I. I'm quite disappointed.
The nature of people just amazes me.
Fly to the sky's songs makes me feel really nostalgic too. Makes me reminiscent of my sec1 days. Makes me wonder if all I've been chasing after are wind that refuses to stop in my palm.
若隐若现 似有似无
千里迢迢 山长水远
扑朔迷离 扑风捉影
水中望月 雾里寻花
蓦然回首，不过蝶梦一场。
- Bourgeois sentimentality
-
- psychotelepathy
- September 26th, 2009
sleepy
It had been a wonderful time since my life outside of the wired world. Yes I should be saying probably something like 'Prelims are over! Hip hip hooray!' But it doesn't mean anything to me now. Maybe on that day it ended. Not now. Knowing days are just...days.
I must say it's quite understandable to be granting ourselves the liberty to take a 'well deserved break', yes, the idea of it is...uh replenishing, for instance. When you realise you've tasked yourself to fill those empty hours to prescribe yourself as what you might call 'a breather', it might be another case. So another form of anxiety sets in. But you don't necessarily feel obliged to confront this anxiety that takes hold of your being because why, it's supposed to be a goddamn fucking break. Gimme a break. Then you ask yourself 'What is a break?' Then your hands guide itself to open a new internet explorer browser to explore the endless realm of the wired world.
Okay, to change the feel of things you decided to walk out, refill your empty cup with the essence of life, walk around the house to give your limbs some exercise. And then suddenly you realise you're too caught up in our own.. little world to bother looking at anything else. You dismiss this sudden, expected, random cloud of thought by the, metaphorically, wave of an arm like you were walking through a cloud of smoke yet to be dispersed by random motions of air molecules, with an exclamation of a 'pah!' or a 'whatever'.
A day leads to another. Another leads to the next. You keep on feeding, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Ocassionally wondering where 'tomorrow' ends. What's the use of wond'rin, anyway?
- Divide my joy
-
- psychotelepathy
- September 8th, 2009
- okay
Disclaimer: title has got nothing to do with the tangible and/or non-tangible materials and contents of the actual post.
(Another fucking peaceful day, I think, would be my line everyday at this point of time, it may change, hopefully)
It suddenly struck me that if I were to die the very next moment but did not for whatever reasons, I would cherish my life more by doing things which would make me feel happier and or disregard all social rules (can't really put this idea into words but nvm words words words are like this) but then again that is quite impossible so in the end I'd most probably live my life as 'I should' -.- And after the completion of this thought I would be like wtf... (So nevermind I wouldn't take this thought so seriously but i will not disregard it completely either, as random thoughts like this are much quite valuable to me now solely because they keep me awake) Please do not think that suicidal thoughts are recurring in my head. I will take this chance to clarify that I never thought suicide is a way out, I never really took it seriously. But I can empathise why people who commit suicide do so, given the various circumstances they are in, which have the ability to push them over the edge. But I am in no situations like these, so I don't even have a reason to commit suicide. Therefore, the whole point of making this point is not to emphasize that I do not have suicidal thoughts, but for the sole sake of expressing my views on this general topic of suicide, as a social concern or not. (Well actually the knowledge of Ian Curtis' suicide was partly why)
Got sort of 'introduced' to Joy Division by a friend of mine. I listened to their album several times up already and I haven't found the right word(s) to describe them. The good thing about listening to bands like this is that you can listen to them over and over and over again no matter how many times because you can't register how or what exactly the tunes of their songs are. That is probably the nature of such music (people, bands, songs, live etc) They live for the moment. Like their sole existence depended on this plane of reality in which the music is played. However one thing I can loosely grasp is Joy Division gave me this image (I wouldn't even say it qualifies as an image) of a white, greyscale space. And that's probably influenced by the album cover. Another thing is that I love how Ian Curtis puts all of his self into the live and dance his weird dance with no regards to people's probable perception of him.
(At this point of time you might be wondering wtf is this all about, well I'm notifying you it's just my unprocessed thoughts going straight from my head translated to the words you are seeing now. Rare insight of brain activities!)
I have a feeling I'm thinking about all sorts of things but the ones I'm supposed to be thinking. The latter might include studying, tangible contents from the text, how I'm going to utilise every breathing minute of my life on studying in preparations of examinations etc. But the more I think of them the more nothing comes out of it so the tendencies of me putting these obliged thoughts aside is high. So there it is.
One thing I'm confidently certain is that ignorance is in no way bliss. A cheap bliss perhaps. (as expressed by my friend) I passionately hate how people could carry on with their lives not knowing that they know little or knowing they know little but do nothing about it. (I'm not saying I'm a genius or what but at least I'm conscious of my ignorance) I couldn't really blame them I guess. Food, shelter, money and warmth are what we are fundamentally concerned with, aren't they? I'm in no position to judge others. It's just me taking pleasure in loathing this kind of things. Yes the pleasure of loathing!!!
(I can't even be bothered about talking about procrastination.)
- gone to good home!
-
- psychotelepathy
- September 7th, 2009
pensive
Congrats to Aschen for finding a good home, finally. Parting was never enjoyable but staying would be bad for you and I. Under some circumstances I couldn't see you down to the road but that's okay, it's good to know you're doing well at your new home. And I was so passionately determined to 'restore peace' in the house when you were here. Now this place resumed its white pale green silence. The way you welcome me home with such hype and enthusiasm.. I couldn't believe it's been a month and a lil more since you inhabited the toilet. Run free as I resume to seeking virtual animal contact on the internet.
- Sur le fil
-
- psychotelepathy
- August 25th, 2009
drunk
Something pushed me over the edge and I am here, seated uncomfortably wasting away. Or rather it was something as natural as going to pee. I wonder why the something didn't push me to a different kind of edge.
Like being on a tightrope you walk forward steathily, surpressing your breath. You stopped abruptly only to realise you couldn't. You look up and see an endless stretch of track, and the same it is when you turned back. You look down and nothingness stared back at you point blank.
You tilt left and right you wonder if you'd fall, the desire grew stronger as time went on.
Lungs locked, lips locks, you kept on keeping on.
- Weird psycho ticko sicko delightful dream
-
- psychotelepathy
- August 24th, 2009
weird
Out of half flu drowsiness and half flu delirium I slipped into sleep and had a fucking weird dream.
My class and I had a merrymaking pool party session at some hotel's pool. Everyone was having fun. We laid floated in the pool neatly arranged in a row while we played some sort of truth and dare. For some reason there were strangers in the row but nevermind that. Halfway through the game I turned over and fell asleep. Everyone roared with rapturous laughter.The game ended few moments later.
It was evening when the party ended. I grabbed my bag after having a quick shower and searched for my room number. I went into the room I thought was mine without giving a second thought. The door was unlocked. Everyone turned abruptly from all the papers and graphs and everything on the talble and stared at the foreign particle. A female stranger in her 20s or so walked up to me and said, 'Oh hi, we're actually doing some work here. Hope you don't mind if there isn't nuff space,' (Wait, isn't it my room? or had I stepped into the wrong one? Ah forget it)
I helped myself to the kitchen and grabbed some vege in the fridge to make some salad. While I was chopping, an eerie presence permeated the room. I turned around and saw an old man with frizzy grey hair and purplish complex with almost rotting teeth staring at me from the door, grey eyes glistening with enthusiasm for the foreign particle. He walked up to me stealthily, eyes still fixed on me. There was something in him that made it unbearable to look at even for a split second more. He said with a smile, '...Well you see, I'm the professor. we are studying...and I am teaching....illegally..' as he inched closer to my face with each word. I backed away as subtlely as I could.
'w-why is that so?' I tried to keep my cool and be nice. Just then the female that welcomes me at the door came in frantically and brought the professor away with an awkward smile.
The whole image of the 'professor's' rotting smile sent shivers down my spine. He inspired something profound in me that i could not comprehend immediately - fear. This baseless fear led me lock the door in my room, cuddle in my blanket at the door for fear he would barge in in the middle of the night. Sure enough I heard deliberately soft, slow knocks on the door. Each knock became louder than the previous, I shut my eyes and buried my head into the blanket.
[In 3rd person's point of view]
The next day, I went onto the streets. I crossed the road outside some commercial building. A white car came my way. I was knocked down and flew some considerable miles before landing. A grey. hunchedback figure loomed over my corpse. It was the professor. A triumphant smile made its way to his face as he dragged my corpse mechanically into his car.
Onlooker spotted this scene and came rushing over but it was too late. The professor shut the doors and started the engine while people banged onto the car windows furiously.
I thought I heard him whisper to himself, 'Now you're all mine.'
Then I woke up and went 'wtf.'
