Lifecatcher

If you end up reading this, I’ve already taken you off because you will not even notice it. This is the greatest irony I can really see. Of course, even my voice will not register on that scale (Richter’s?) even if I’m just 12 inches away from you–can you imagine that? A ruler’s length and I end up banging on your glass bubble, disabled to the point of breaking down? (This is strange, especially for me.) The creative furor this has inspired is not worth dying for if there can be no ending to this idiotic gear-turning. People, I have done the strangest and most self-destructive thing a creative person could ever do to themselves:

I have (attempted) to obliviate my muse.

I just received a random network message saying that black ants infesting your home means an influx of more money.

I find this weird. Of course, the only reason I’m writing here is because I was going to write something I wanted to but forgot all about it. It’s a little strange how they say it’s always mind over matter but then you figure out that mostly it’s not, that the mind over matter thing applies only to things you can control and not on more pressing matters. Wouldn’t it be better if things that occurred randomly would become a sign that what you want will happen soon? Wouldn’t it be nice if all our options were placed between 95% and utter perfection?

I know people whose choices are that, and they actually ponder (and obsess) on getting utter perfection, when others would be happy to even get that 95% which for them is trash. Or not as worth as a 100%, which is child’s play for them.

Either way, I’m babbling here, and I’m thinking of something else entirely and trying to figure out a way to get that thing done with.

Lol. I just went through the friendster database and searched for people who said they liked DJ Tiesto. Of course, I narrowed the search down to my preferred settings, blah,blah,blah.

The thing that’s amusing here though, is that out of the 9 people who popped out of the search, 7-5 people, i think were connected to me. And out of those 7-5 people, some of them study in UST. Where I am. LOL.

It just disconcerts me a little how connected we can be to other people, without realizing it. does this make the Chaos Theory true?

Huh. This brought by lack of coffee.

In every damn aspect. Clingy, like cling wrap until it’s uncomfortable, and you have to crawl and grovel just to get something done because it’s gotta be THEIR way.

You have no idea what my life is like. It’s like being in wonderland and living with the Queen of Hearts. X 9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999 infinity.

See? Don’t tell me I’m doing something wrong here. I’m a good person, I know that. I don’t sacrifice babies or do anything crazy like killing people, or drugs, or whatever.

You think you know, but you don’t.

IDK anymore. Blah. Okay. IDK why I’m updating. Someone beat sense into me! :O

So. I have this "superstition", if you must call it such, that if you hear the same song on the radio at least twice on a.) different stations, or b.) a request program THE WHOLE DAY, it’s gotta mean something.

Well. Today I was listening to the radiowaves from 9am to 5pm and three songs played repeatedly. And take note these songs? They are old songs. Meaning they got released last year, or five months ago or somethinhg, so they’re not really "fresh".

The songs:

1. Hey there Delilah by Plain White T’s

2. Oo by Updharmadown (I LOVE THEM. SHUT UP.)

3. A Sorta Fairytale by Tori Amos

I do not know what to make of the messages in these songs. :O

Have I mentioned I went to a bar last night? I think it was lame, after some introspection. Meep.

I swear, this is driving me nutsoez.

I’m just so tired of this crapola and HELLO. Why am I even giving a flying !@$# again?

Puh-lease. Enough. This isn’t even making my brain write stuff.
Tsk tsk tsk. Issues issues issues. Details. Meh.

Manila pollution makes me want to walk around or throw up.
Or possibly both.

I don’t think it’s a good thing to be flaky and shoddy. If something’s ticking you off, say it. No duh. Even 2 year-olds can see that. (And do so.)

Comment and concrit. I think there’s something a little off here?

Binary Planets.

Binary planets revolve
around each other
with one face
eternally basking

in the other’s
dark.

Unwittingly, you
pull me in your
silent little
orbit, gravitationally.

Revolving at
the speed of humid air
per heartbeat-
a poisonous

tango.
Binary planets.
You show one face
to me,

And I to you.
One, just one
face, will be
the sum total

of everything
we are, and could
ever be.

We cross paths
at untimely moments,
one eclipsing
the other,

drenched by
the stars at the
command of light-
I orbit around
you

When you begin to
eclipse me

again.

I’ve been surfing this @$#$&^! website and the fangroups and such all contain self advertisements.

"Add me up! [stupid e-mail withheld because of sheer idiocy@yahoo.com]", several, majority even of all the posts in ALL the groups I checked out.

Supernatural is a good show people. Jensen Ackles is pretty beyond human comprehension and therefore must have a coherent, thinking fanclub here as well. So must Jared Padalecki.

I’m going to make my own. BOO friendster, boo.

The adults believe that
it is for the good-
that we must go to distant lands
to gain a better future.
For now, I can only remember
the laughs we shared,
steaming mugs of instant
coffee staining dirty-white
plastic surfaces, and
promises shared over abandoned
fire exits. I still remember
the last day we were allowed
to catch a glimpse of each other-
I crossed fast concrete for
the first time in my life
to get to the dusty green
cement of your apartment
and got there too late, a woman
in white was cleaning the place:
she told me you had already gone.
I vividly recall still the
time when we were sent
to the principal’s office
because we insisted that
the store clerk and school guard
were having an affair;
and it still echoes in my head:
the kind words you would say
every conversation, when you
would laugh and cry simultaneously
while talking to me about
your father and his latest
woman. For now, I can only
be left to ponder, if your
hair is still as long as before,
if your irises are still that deep-brown,
and how you look now, chatting
with friends on the phone until
late-night, or drifting into
dreams while nodding into
papers of philosophy.

(For Katherine)

I recall.