Would you like to stay for Dinner?

Simple Colours

2009-09-24T17:11:49Z

I just watched Se7en and I wish I had watched Clueless.

But off that topic. I wonder if anyone knows this about me. If there is one thing I am strongly against, it's racism, or, for that matter, any discrimination of a group of people for a reason a majority of them cannot help. Sure, I may crack a few of them racist jokes once in awhile, or almost 90 percent of the time. But if it came down to it, I would never refuse someone my help based on what race they are. I have friends and colleagues of all races, religions, etc. And although I may never agree with any or many of their beliefs and behaviours (being the overly opinionated human being that I am), I have nothing against who they are as people.
In my opinion, race is a social barrier created by people. This means, it cannot be overcome. Anyone who says it can is a complete retard and should have their brains sucked out with a vacuum cleaner from their asshole. Or they are John Lennon. People are also generally restricted by their cultural backgrounds, it's inevitable. But maybe it would have been nice if we were all same coloured creatures with anal probes and such. Maybe it wouldn't be too colourful, but look where all this "colour" has gotten humans.

OK, I promise, LAST ONE.

2009-08-12T16:58:03Z

MyHeritage: Family trees - Genealogy - Celebrities - Collage - Morph

Celebrity Collage by MyHeritage

2009-08-12T16:33:41Z

MyHeritage: Family tree - Genealogy - Celebrity - Collage - Morph

Celebrity Collage by MyHeritage

2009-08-12T16:28:03Z

MyHeritage: Celebrity Collage - Roots - Free family history

Cheap Love

2009-04-27T16:33:09Z

I've always believed that making movies about death is a bit of a cop out. I mean, it's an almost surefire way to mess up your audience and get a reaction out of them. There is no craft to it, because there is always a strong emotion towards death.
Love, on the other hand.
Love is different. Not everyone has felt love. I say LOVE, as a noun, not LOVED, as a verb. Or if they have, they don't understand it or love it enough to love it back. To make a movie bout love is a gamble. It's not easy to remember which heartstrings to pull on, which would make love more contrived or make it seem cheap.
No, to make people feel love is a different thing altogether.

Over-Due.

2009-02-27T16:16:29Z

This whole year, even though I quite been able to understand it until now, has been about this insane change. I'm generally quite against change. Something as simple as a new place to put my personal belongings would be marked as severe. Saying that however, I am suddenly overwhelmed by this sudden, pressing urge of change, of pushing. Now, this is going to sound incredibly pro Obama-esque, which I am NOT (not that I'm against and such but I do feel that this is the pattern of the American political system of finding a hero and dumping them), but there is this unexplainable feeling of not being the same. I mean, yes, it's about time, right, being twenty two and all. But still, just when I was walking up the stairs and was reading this LTA flyer of a new flyover/underpass being built in front of my once very peaceful (NOT ULU) neighbourhood. That means I can't jaywalk across the road like I have for the last fifteen years of my life.
It's a horrible thought.
It really does seem like a week ago when I first stepped into my horrid course and met the horrid people there, did the horrid things I did and met the one wonderful person I met. How long I've known Shahirah, under the umbrella, Deeyana and Zafirah, although I did take quite long. 9 years. 9 years ago I didn't have 9 years to know someone. It's scary. Sometimes it's funny. Like my whole teenage life I've wanted to be one of those latchkey kids with no one at home to bug them. I've gotten that 3 times now, and I can safely say it's not fun when there's no one at home and there is floors of nothingness. Horrible thing it is, growing up.

Oh, Pages!

2008-12-28T21:06:29Z

It always amazes me, the speed with which people, particularly those around me, change. It's a rapid sweeping moment. One that, you have to catch with your eyes in order to not miss. On the contrary, I feel that I'm always at this constant march. I can see my changes. But only sometimes, when I look real carefully. Maybe I one of those retards who is part of their past regardless of what moves forward. Thus is my downfall. So I suppose this is somewhat of a HAPPY NEW YEAR MOTHERFUCKERS, if anything. To those who're are as fast as whippets and those who age like carbon (sticking on anything as time passes) but mostly to everyone who knows me (not those that I know) and to those who love the wonderful punctuation known as the parenthesis and the period(not the drippy type).

"Backyards" - Au Revoir Simone

2008-12-06T19:32:23Z

Directions:
1. Put your iPod, iTunes, Windows Media Player, etc. on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS

IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY" YOU SAY?
"Hung up on Blue Monday" - New Order feat Madonna

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF?
"The Greatest View"- Silverchair

WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR IN A GUY/GIRL?
"Everything is going to be all right"-Bob Marley

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
"I am Over It"- The Dandy Warhols

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE PURPOSE?
"The Boy with the Arab Strap" - Belle and Sebastian

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
"A Mind of Her Own" - Pedro the Lion (Haha. How odd.)

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
"Passive" - A Perfect Circle (This can't be right.)

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
"Rockerfeller Skank" - Fatboy Slim (Check it out now, funk soul brother.)

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
"You make me completely Miserable" Lit

WHAT IS 2 + 2?
"This Modern Love"- Bloc Party (I do like Math)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
"Life is short" - Butterfly Boucher

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
"Crash into me" - Dave Matthews Band

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
"Ride Wit Me"- Nelly (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAH.)

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO WHEN YOU GROW UP?
"I'll be Your Crying Shoulder" - Goo Goo Dolls

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
"Smells Like Teen Spirit" - Tori Amos

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
"Technicolour Girls" - Deathcab for Cutie

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
"A Lack of Colour" - Deathcab for Cutie

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
"Stop crying your heart out" - Oasis

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
"Build me up Buttercup" - The Temptations

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
"Post Modern Sleaze" - Sneaker Pimps

SONG THEY WILL PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
"Twisted Nerve" - Bernard Hermann (God. how creepy.)

WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
"Backyards" - Au Revoir Simone

So boring. Nothing applies. Got it from silver_blaise anyhoo. It's fun when you have NOTHING to do online.

Nutshell

2008-10-06T17:18:51Z

Everyone has that feeling right? The one where you feel that you are not just here to sleep, eat, shit and fuck. But that there's more to this. We write this movie out for ourselves. Because some people say they're realists. They say nothing good will ever come out of their existence. That they should move on. Eat sleep fuck. Eat sleep shit fuck. Are they telling the truth? The truth is important. We base our very existence on creating memories for ourselves (not for others) hoping that one day, sooner or later we will come back. Am I the only one with the insane hope that one day everything will be turned around?
I don't believe that. It would make existence more lonely than it is. There is so much to be squeezed out, and too much to loose. Whether we know heaven, or hell. Or beyond the great beyond. I wish we knew though. It would just make this so much easier. Sometime I wish we'd just be thrown a rope. It would help.

to forever

2008-09-27T20:20:08Z

Everyone of you who reads this should know that I care, I will never wish harm on you and please please don't ever ever ever go. This breath is something that is taken away too easily, and it shouldn't be something you're willing to let go without a fight. Because it's all you have.

TAKE THAT, YO.

2008-08-04T14:45:59Z

I usually pride myself on being rather confrontational. Many people would disagree that this should be an endearing trait but I find that it gets the job done when people are well, generally, scared of you. One thing that I didn't know was that my boyfriend had these very same traits in him, dormant as they were. So, here's the story. Disturbing albeit funny. So I was in the bus with him and sleeping, on my bag, which was on his lap. I was very engrossed in thinking about the cookie that I wanted to buy from Subway (the ones with the coloured candies) and suddenly I heard someone saying, "Oi!" from in front of us. Oh, but first, a little backstory. There were these obnoxious ACJC children who climbed into the bus at Buona Vista and they were making a fuckload of noise from the start of the journey. This "Oi!" Presumably came from them. Anyhoo, groggy and as involved in the cookie eating process as I was I thought nothing of it. Then a small rustling and he pushed me off his lap and I was like "What?" and He was like "Making fun.." Something to that effect. Before I could do or react in anyway, he turned around and asked the little shit.
"Excuse me? What are you talking about? Are you making fun of us?"
And the little shit goes "No, I was talking about the television."
Obviously, he puny little gayboy balls were shaking to no end.
And he goes "Are you sure? What were you doing pointing at us for?"
And the little shit hasn't any clue what to say.
And of course I was enjoying the action. I just love these types of confrontations. It makes my heart beat all fast and makes me want to punch people.

Gonna Be All Right

2008-06-14T16:17:11Z

To all whom I have not spoken to, talked to or about, replied to your messages online or your texts. I'm very sorry. It's true. I have been insanely busy. And whether or not I like it, I have become somewhat of a workaholic, not by choice, but by circumstance. Where the one thing you look forward to doing is just collapsing on your bed and having one moment to think about what's happy, what's not making me the over wrought workaholic that I am. Not even sleeping. Just zoning out. And when the walls around you push too hard, you can do one of two things. Push back as hard and you can and hope like hell that you're menial strength will get you out of there. Or, if you had the power, you could just, well disappear. I took the second opportunity.

I know no one knew, and it was a decision made consciously. I just had to get out. My whole being felt ready to explode. I'm not sure why. I had to go away. I am not sorry. I would be more sorry if I hadn't gone. I'm not sorry. I remember, with the extra tight snorkeling mask over my face and its ability to cut off my whole supply of oxygen to my nose, I felt more liberated than I've felt in a long time. I stopped feeling that I've been defeated and all my material pleasures were thrown out of the way. I even think I felt that if I floated away right now, if I were gone. I would go truly happy. And coming back to a sandy hotel room to talk about nonsense, smoke and listen to Marley with eight other people who felt the same way helped me in a way nothing in the world could.

And the one thing I looked forward to the most? The fact that I could come back, for three nights, to lie with the one person who would never judge me for anything.

That's what life should be.

Orcish

2008-04-11T20:09:03Z

sin says: (9:52:50 PM)Igna! oom shakaklalka oom.

so what if you catch me where would we land says: (9:53:11 PM)-dances around scratching armpits-

sin says: (9:53:28 PM)Greep inki lodu retui!

so what if you catch me where would we land says: (9:53:29 PM)djefje diiioooo OOOM

so what if you catch me where would we land says: (9:53:36 PM)Mree mree mree

sin says: (9:53:51 PM)_digs nose and passes it to you-

so what if you catch me where would we land says: (9:54:04 PM)-eats it-

so what if you catch me where would we land says: (9:54:14 PM)-digs own nose and hands it to u-

sin says: (9:54:42 PM)wui ika sheeka derg derg

so what if you catch me where would we land says: (9:54:55 PM)U cannot weasle out of eating my booger.

sin says: (9:54:55 PM)-take it happily and dances in a circle-

so what if you catch me where would we land says: (9:55:01 PM)ok good.

The 27 Names for Tears

2007-09-26T16:13:24Z

First you could start for happiness, in a logical sense, purely uncomplicated, joy. Second is pain, although why we cry in pain seems to be a mystery. Next we have fear because fear and love, we only have two spectrums. Then we come to love, which makes us cry in pain happiness fear and love, when we don't have anything else. Then the simplest of all our negatives, sadness. Shortly following is anger, root of all evil and the power of the opposite of love, hate, which sits quietly behind. Then comes relief which is so short lived we'd see a blue moon more often with (trailing behind) frustration which leaves its marks everywhere having a common factor with bloody murder. Then it's the calm, after, or before the hurricane typhoon storm anything unbelievable and beautiful and uncontrollable and treacherous melancholy and then the destruction. But wait we're not through yet, we're but halfway done. Madness pokes in for nightcap throws your favourite wine glasses out of the windows Oh No! What have you done and desperation comes by to help clean the broken pieces off the floor. And just as the storm calms desire rears it's beautiful head waving things you know you can't have. It's red it's pretty just a little bit come on just give it a little try. Belonging steps in to save the last shreds of your dignity but you step aside and let the envy take over. Greed comes quickly after that, no point in leaving siblings behind but just to complicate matters, as if they weren't killing you enough already pride enters the house takes it all in but refuses to do anything to help. Confusion takes the hint and flutters through the hallways knocking down every righted glass every fixed window while sanity mulls over it in the corner being a member but silent. Fatigue sleeps on the bed at night, stealing blankets and pushing you off the bed. Regret decides to join the party only realising that she should have been there long before and obsesses over it enlarging the holes in the walls and creating new stains to clean up. Treachery helps, oh yes he does and trips over himself now everyone is in the same mess they were in before but no it wasn't him oh no. Laziness pushes him away, far too early, go back to be.......

greenerain @ 2007-08-22T22:11:00

2007-08-22T14:25:45Z

naresh bought me an instant camera and i took stupid pictures with it. it was fun. played badminton till my arms legs butt everything hurt. tried to climb tree and eat plants and everything someone would do on a day like this. oh yes, and of course, pollute the young minds of children with things they shouldn't know.all in a day's work.

Of Moustaches and The Axis Powers

2007-07-07T05:28:37Z

Didi, kaju and I drew moustaches on our the side of our right index finger. I drew it first. Kaju became hitler. I was mussoulini (is that how his name is spelt) and didi was stalin. We were officially the Axis powers. She has a transparent handlebar moustache that looked like a fish(because A) Kaju is inept in drawing handlebar moustaches, bottle brush looking ones are fine though B)It was too thick to be coloured in). Their mom's a history teacher. She would be proud. It one of those better things to do at night.

You are NOT a perfect Snowflake.

2007-07-05T23:07:51Z

it's quite funny how you only see reality SMACK in the face when you're falling asleep on the couch in school on the fourth floor (almost drooling) and people keep walking in and out and you just just sit there taking up the entire space meant for four people and one look at them people who walk by stop them from asking you if you could please move over to the side because they need to use the powerppoint next to you and your answer is no asshole fuck you and you're waiting to use it to anyone who dares to tell you to go away. Life's interesting that way.

greenerain @ 2007-04-17T23:02:00

2007-04-17T15:12:57Z

Across the overheadbridge, some of us for the first time in 3 months. It's a half happy half crappy feeling, really. We giggle obnoxiously at the fresh meat which we were once before, laugh at their overdressiness, their desperate attempt to make some sort of statement. "Who wears leggings and 3 inch heels to school?" , those sorts of bafflement. "We'll give them a week. Two weeks, tops." And we come back wondering if anything has changed, if theres anyone who has changed drastically , madeover completely (You don't want to be that person). Most people are the same. Speckles of new clothes and shoes (myself included), that the holiday was not a COMPLETE waste and that yes, indeed, we are older, albeit a few months and that we're slightly higher up on the food chain.

Hollers to lauren, whom I saw today. Sorry for the lack of conversational skill. It's been awhile, you look good. (:
I know I resemble a baby elephant now. heh.

We are Disgusting.

2007-03-08T19:52:10Z

Did you know? We all live to be accepted. Even if it's not by other people, it's to be accepted by ourselves. It's a game of tolerating everything till that everything comes to a final, maybe sudden close. And we are al trying to find meaning in the acceptance and we have to renew it like country club membership because we have to somehow look in the mirror every single bloody day and stare at ourselves and be able to tolerate ourselves. That maybe at least we accept us. We, that being me knows, gets and wires everything and gives us a reason for everything we do from the time we have been born. Oh he's done this because he was angry, no, she was crazy, no, he was a happy guy. Tell me, how do we live with ourselves then? We are all so disgusting.

We are even more disgusting because we pick our noses when people can't see. Or when people can. See, it's disgusting.

greenerain @ 2007-02-22T10:32:00

2007-02-22T02:34:56Z

Us, with the boobs? We make some pretty bad choices.

-Meredith Grey, Grey;s Anatomy-

greenerain @ 2007-02-21T13:09:00

2007-02-21T06:24:40Z

So i've been tagged by gwen aka moodymooday.
Anyway. If you want to be interviewed if you're seriously bored then tag INTERVIEW ME. rule is that you have to answer the questions i give you.

1. What is the inspiration behind the entries in your LJ, or are they random passages that come to your head?

i'm not really inspired. i'm just saying things that i'm sure only make sense to me, seeing as that it's my lj and all and i don't expect anyone to understand them. it's like talking, only inside my head.

2. What is your most prized posession and why?

my most prized possession would be something intangible and something nobody would understand. right now there are too many things for me to name just one, i'll have to get back to you on that. but as dumb as it sounds, my most prized possession is my ability to be human.

3. Who do you look up to the most and why?

I'm going to give crappy answers to this and say that I really look up to my parents because it's not easy to give someone the quality of life they've given me. I'm extremely privileged in the aspect of my parents giving me what i want and i'm sort of spoilt rotten.
But i don't look up to them for much else because i can't see myself modelling after them or wanting to be carbon copies of them.
So in essence i look up to no one.

4. If you could change the world in any way what would you do?

I would irradicate all assholes in the world. My definition of asshole is rather broad. So basically half the world's population is down the drain. Whoosh.

5. What is the one thing you are afraid of?

i don't know if you know that feeling. That feeling that after you fight with someone and you call them back and they don't pick up their phone but you really love them so now you're afraid they won't talk to you but you don't know what to do? that helplessness? i'm afraid of that feeling.
That, and the dark.

Lists.

2007-02-01T03:22:47Z

These are my lists.

Things to do:
Fix laptop
Do writcomm proposal
Do cg

Things to buy
New bag (been using my crumpler for 4 years now, I think it's time for a change.)
New T-shirts ( I think I keep repeating t-shirts. I don't want to be a t-shirt repeater)
New Jeans from CK (They have nice skinnys at not so extravagant prices)
New high cut converse shoes
New jack purrells
New Slippers (preferably from Havaianas)
Earring rack (Let me tell you a story about my earrings. First of all, they cannot be found. Second of all, most of them are in the trash, so i cannot clean out my trash but i still keep throwing things in)
New boxers
New dressy tops
New belt(s)

Things coming
Naresh's birthday.
Need to buy present with the very minimal amount of money i have.

I don't really like long to-do-lists.

greenerain @ 2007-01-16T00:31:00

2007-01-15T16:31:17Z

When we’re quiet, it doesn’t seem that we are thinking, feeling, breathing. We are unheard and slowly, the world shifts.We shift.
He spins around on the spot. Slowly, surely. He stands, quiet, waiting. “We’re misunderstood,’ he thinks. He smiles like he knows something no one else knows. Everyone is crazy, swaying to the beat around him. Veins throbbing. He feels someone’s sweat on his arm. Sweat and saliva. He looks as the droplet, not seeing it. He sees it, we’re wrong.
It’s just not how we see it.
He is serene. Chaos makes him serene. It could be the sweet liquid coursing through his veins, the glazed over eyes he doesn’t know he has.
He doesn’t know where the saliva (or was it sweat?) is from. He looks around. He doesn’t particularly care. He looks at the person next to him. Long hair, ears on earrings, rather than earrings on ears, studs everywhere possible. He is spinning around, insanely. Like a madman. He is making growling noises.
He scoffs. Stupid, stupid imbecile, he says. No one can hear him. His hands tremble as he runs them through his hair. He can feel his calloused fingers against his scalp. He his tired. He looks at his hands, and the damage the machines have done.
He feels nothing.
He is unkempt, lazy. He is imperfect. He sees his reflection is one of those crazy light balls hanging on the ceiling. He looks. His face is familiar. Unshaven, slightly balding, he notices, which is strange. Non-descript, really. Not that he notices. He blends in, like a chameleon. Not any different.
He is coloured the colours of the guitars the crashing drums the cymbals the walls the people. It goes on forever. The noise the space the walls that close in the spiral.
The big fucking vortex.
It’s those fucking disco balls. Spinning and reflecting. He looks at them like he would watch television.
He sees how it wasn’t like this before. It was not so clear, not so clever. He was stupid. But there was something comforting in that insane stupidity, he remembers. Who’s to say he was young? Who’s to say anything about him. He is alone, essentially. We are all alone.
It wasn’t like this before. The sky was a lot clearer in the disco balls, not that murky brown his brain had put up to him seeing everywhere other than the disco ball. Each pentagon, each reflection. He’s was happy.
Her black spaghetti strap has fallen off her shoulder. She is wild, dancing with reckless abandon, in the crowd. Too bad she would never understand. He hair flips, she is beautiful to him, even now.
He is sorry for her. She would live on in this insanely stupid world. He couldn’t bring her where he was going. She wouldn’t understand.
She is perfect in that way.
For an instant, his heart swells. He can feel it, this insane pounding in his chest. He considers not leaving her.
He remembers this. Smells, like lavender, crying, salt tears, cherry flavours, the car with it’s torn upholstery. All in the disco ball and its pentagon What if she thinks it’s because of her? She must not. That was a risk he was going to have to take.
The clarity is too tempting.
“We’re all crazy,” he decides. He is happy tonight. But he is wary. Anything could happen. Happiness means a harder fall back into sadness. Don’t climb too high, that’s what he believes. Hurts less when you fall.  Cigarette ash spills on the floor, the cigarette smoked, burnt out, over with. The drum crashes behind him. He hears nothing. It’s insanely silent where he is, right in the middle of the malicious noise.
He smiles to himself.
He is a predator, he works for himself, he hurts those who never hurt him. He moves to the side of the crowd. Everything seems so surreal to him, it floats around him like fluid still. He doesn’t know he’s there.
If he does, he doesn’t even care.
Things don’t matter for him now. It’s this insane clarity he has suddenly come to understand, that in the end, the sadness is banal. No one looks at him, he is just another face in the crowd.  The guitar rifts ring in his ears, he hears it, closes his eyes. Ah, there, the noise is shut out now.
Why here? Why this concert?
He doesn’t know, he doesn’t think.  We don’t need a reason. He certainly doesn’t need one. He just wants to enjoy the melancholy. There is melancholy in sound, in throbbing, loud music, in the huge speakers and the drums and bass. The music which he doesn’t here. Sometimes the silence is so much worse.
“No, don’t think about that, you need the calm,” he nearly panics for the second time that night.  The sinking fades off, slowly. Push everything out, yes, we don’t understand anything, best be ignorant, best not to know.
The time is coming, the time of the ultimate clarity. He is ready, the cigarette has burnt out. He puts his hand in his pocket. He feels around it. He smiles again. The handle is cold, unfriendly. This is correct. There are many choices, and he has chosen this one. There is.
Absolute.  Blank.  Clarity.
And the barrel is in his hand, out of his pocket now, it’s perfect and cold and forever.
That is what clarity means.

Clarity

2007-01-08T22:42:18Z

we’re quiet, it doesn’t seem that we are thinking, feeling, breathing. We are unheard and slowly, the world shifts.He spins around on the spot. Slowly, surely. He stands, quiet, waiting. “We’re misunderstood,’ he thinks. He is serene. Chaos makes him serene. It could be the sweet liquid coursing through his veins, the glazed over eyes he doesn’t know he has.
He is unkempt, lazy. He is imperfect. He sees his reflection is one of those crazy light balls hanging on the ceiling. He looks. His face is familiar. Unshaven, slightly balding, he notices, which is strange. Non-descript, really. Not that he notices. He blends in, like a chameleon.
He is coloured the colours of the guitars the crashing drums the cymbals the walls the people. It goes on forever. The noise the space the walls that close in the spiral.
The big fucking vortex.
It wasn’t like this before. It was not so clear, not so clever. He was stupid. But there was something comforting in that insane stupidity, he remembers. Who’s to say he was young? Who’s to say anything about him. He is alone, essentially. We are all alone.
It wasn’t like this before. It was not so clear, not so clever. He was stupid. But there was something comforting in that insane stupidity, he remembers. Who’s to say he was young? Who’s to say anything about him. He is alone, essentially. We are all alone.

Her black spaghetti strap has fallen off her shoulder. She is wild, dancing with reckless abandon, in the crowd. Too bad she would never understand. He hair flips, she is beautiful to him, even now.
He is sorry for her. She would live on in this insanely stupid world. He couldn’t bring her where he was going. She wouldn’t understand.
She is perfect in that way.
For an instant, his heart swells. He can feel it, this insane pounding in his chest. He considers not leaving her.
He remembers this. Smells, like lavender, crying, salt tears, cherry favours, the car with it’s torn upholstery. What if she thinks it’s because of her? She must not. That was a risk he was going to have to take.
T he clarity is too tempting.
“We’re all crazy,” he decides. He is happy tonight. But he is wary. Anything could happen. Happiness means a harder fall back into sadness. Don’t climb too high, that’s what he believes. Hurts less when you fall.  Cigarette ash spills on the floor, the cigarette smoked, burnt out, over with. The drum crashes behind him. He hears nothing. It’s insanely silent where he is, right in the middle of the malicious noise.
He smiles to himself.
He is a predator, he works for himself, he hurts those who never hurt him. He moves to the side of the crowd. Everything seems so surreal to him, it floats around him like fluid still. He doesn’t know he’s there.
If he does, he doesn’t even care.
Things don’t matter for him now. It’s this insane clarity he has suddenly come to understand, that in the end, the sadness is banal. No one looks at him, he is just another face in the crowd.  The guitar rifts ring in his ears, he hears it, closes his eyes. Ah, there, the noise is shut out now.
Why here? Why this concert?
He doesn’t know, he doesn’t think.  We don’t need a reason. He certainly doesn’t need one. He just wants to enjoy the melancholy. There is melancholy in sound, in throbbing, loud music, in the huge speakers and the drums and bass. The music which he doesn’t here. Sometimes the silence is so much worse.
“No, don’t think about that, you need the calm,” he nearly panics for the second time that night.  The sinking fades off, slowly. Push everything out, yes, we don’t understand anything, best be ignorant, best not to know.
The time is coming, the time of the ultimate clarity. He is ready, the cigarette has burnt out. He puts his hand in his pocket. He feels around it. He smiles again. The handle is cold, unfriendly. This is correct. There are many choices, and he has chosen this one. There is.
Absolute.  Blank.  Clarity.
And the barrel is in his hand, out of his pocket now, it’s perfect and cold and forever.
That is what clarity means.

greenerain @ 2006-11-04T14:26:00

2006-11-04T06:26:49Z

I can't write anymore.