O roses roses, the roses that i scorn,
of perilous love and bloody thorns.
Yet every metaphor, before their beauty, speechless became,
Embrace embrace, fondle i will, these deadly roses;
Every mimosa, in her radiance, cries in shame,
To death, To death, bleed i will, for her divine kisses.

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Return.

Heh. my last post on this blog was on the 8th of October 2005. it has been almost long enough that i have to name this post Genesis instead-_-. You know, prior to this day, i would notice the bookmark to this address every now and then and the few times that i do, I'll be so utterly convinced that its an impossibility for me to be blogging in here again, heh turns out impossibility is nothing indeed? i don't know if my fervor for blogging is still so rampant in me like in the old days but recently I've been having this itch to rant forever about life. but when i first recognized this longing to blog again, i really wondered whether i will be able to write as fluently as before. I've always had this misconception that the ability to pen down ones running thoughts is inert in everyone and naturally would require no talent nor practice to execute; yet at this very precise moment that im writing this right now, i am having second thoughts about that. Simply because of the snail speed i am writing this -_-, I have no choice but to acknowledge that the fundamental building block of this ability is none other than- practice. I really wish i could write like before albeit the harsh truth that it is no longer possible for awhile. I remember it used to flow like wine, just like wine, smooth and elegant; ah the joy in the continuous manifestation of ones running thoughts, i had felt it before. it was heavenly, it was like a burning adrenalin gushing through my body every second as i wrote in a style so uniquely mine that i felt the alphabets rejoice with me, all that when i still possessed that capability. Is there not a shortcut or an alternative and easier way. do i really have to commit myself into writing so often again just for a mere glimpse of what i have enjoyed before? How long do i have to suffer this bitter incompetence for? Mm i wonder if i come across as someone really emotional, like what everyone claims that i am outside of virtual reality? (70%? heh ) Or do i simply enjoy basking in solitary and reminiscence? Perhaps its a combination of both, and i know nothing more of myself than i know of santa's,

I swear, i freaking swear upon the light and holy bloody grave of myself, i had something to say just two minutes ago omg, i even have a witness for heavens sake. In that two minutes, i ate an almond, drank a sip of some soft drink. Thats all i freaking did. Then it simply vanished, vanished without a trace. Sigh, enough of lectures about symptoms of short term memory. Lesson learnt i suppose. And more importantly something else just nudged me in the brain.



Mmm should i be trying things I've never done or have never dared to do? Should i travel, or go backpacking? Someone said its detrimental to lose ones curiosity at such a young age. Is it true? I dislike changes somehow. Am i weird? Or am i unique? Does anyone have the same sentiments as i do? Am i alone? Is it an ivory tower that surrounds me? Singapore seem to make you just want to settle and stick around and not go anywhere else; I'm become so accustomed to the city comfort that going anywhere overseas for a short trip would absolutely upset my routine. Consequently i am almost certain i would feel uneasy in the duration of the trip, and thus spoiling the entire trip. I hate the city, i dislike the bustle, i detest the noise, yet sadly- and ironically, i chose to embrace these and forsake the curiosity and the desire to seek a place where i truly belong, both ways, the physical utopia and the spiritual solace. If you didn't understand where that last sentence came from, read between the lines for this paragraph and you would probably notice all the underlying analogies that i have insinuated.



What is the definition of a promise? Do you think theres an eternal promise? I know for certain it isn't a quality that binds to time; instead it wanes with time, however gently, it does. If you count the number of glasses shattered in a day and you count the number of promises broken on the same day, i have a hunch that you'll finish counting the first in a few hours, and spend the rest of your life counting the latter. To me, a true promise, can not and should never be vocalized into words, because a promise made to another person is never truly a promise. It is within the heart that it belongs; it only suffices for one, it is a principle held fast and hard, a rule that you abide to, a rule that evolves into a promise to thyself. This promise establishes itself into a routine that you unknowingly get used to and follow. This divine expression is exactly the essential element that binds a couple together; That is what makes love so lasting on some occasions. Who would have thought it was never about the verbal declarations nor the blatant confessions that made the difference but this minute facet of a promise.


mmm you should have noticed this glaring fact already. until now I've yet to speak in the native language all bloggers are so capable of speaking: their everyday-life-description-language. i hate narration, i hate even more the narration of my own day. i don't think I'm ever going to elaborate nor reveal much of what i do everyday in here, and even if i did, it would be extremely brief and insignificant to the entire page's content. This starting post has been long enough i think, wonder if i can maintain this length every time. I certainly hope so.

Its not p-
It wont-
I think she sti-
don't bother asking i won't say.

Literary tools are finer than grains of sand.
 posted by Homan on Sunday, December 24, 2006