Exodus

It's always the case, when I'm supposed to be most occupied that I write even more (haphazardly). But how can I resist what seems like the land of perennial sunshine and driveways, polite punk and afro beats. I love these four nodding, collar-and-cardigan combinationed boys and their very tame, post-oasis eyebrows and hair. Respectable, decent ( Read more... )

I have this unusually bad habit of picking up a book that interests me and as I flip through, my eyes are voraciously scanning for other titles on the shelves, eating colour and spines many times at once, and then I pick another book up and as I flip through, my eyes are.. and this continues ad nauseaum. It's no wonder I end up with no less than ( Read more... )

Rather than grasping you- with my hand, with my gaze, with my intellect- I must stop before the inappropriable, leaving the transcendence between us to be. 'You who are not and will never be me or mine', you are and remain you, since I cannot grasp you, understand you, possess you. You escape every ensnarement, ever submission by me, if I respect ( Read more... )

I really didn't know what to say when I was looking at that painting (without sounding like I'm trying too hard or cavalier), or any other painting for that matter. For the want of better words mostly, but I think this is also where the whole lot of logic, signifiers and signification fails. It's almost perverse to codify the body of work into hues ( Read more... )

LWN Library is really a meta-technological slum (besides the fact that the Engine boys smell deathly unnatural but hello there, my Scandinavian messiah is always clean and sharp like a two-dimensional god straight out of Gentleman's Quarterly.) I like how his facial expression (or the lack thereof) is one of perpetual austerity hemmed into his ( Read more... )

My family's medical history may be accurate after all, I might just die from heart failure in one way or another. And I declare kaya (hainanese only) toast my new obsessif possessif, other than my Other: Boho Chic Bonito. When I have nothing to distract me, I am planning a secret list of To-Brings. (Super-ultra-methodically.) And it gets me ( Read more... )

TRES CHIC BONITO

It must be such that we are all equally culpable, or that the sleight of some providential hand has made isolated events exude such universal wantonness. We speak of Kings and Queens, but the ones that we truly come to admire, are our lovers. And then when they do not play the role of royalty, they are the most blood-lusting, vindictive murderers ( Read more... )

Like the physically and spiritually impoverished, six of us huddled over beer and cigarettes, forming a haphazard circle of possibilities. Into the night, frivolity left our lips. We spoke without a care or obligation; without a care of the said "End of Days" while the ashtray depicted a downtown Tokyo, blackened by soot but continued to gleam ( Read more... )