carousels in the sky that we shape with our eyes.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Hiatus.

Because I've finally caught on, and it feels absolutely terrifying.

9:54 AM

Sunday, January 27, 2008

After a week of unproductive scribbling, I gift you with the opening paragraph of my novel! I know it's vague, and confusing, and ficc-ish, but it's something.

Don't stone me. This hasn't been spell-checked.

*

Symphonies of sound crash against his body; songs come in waves and everywhere is the surging resonance of hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah. It frustrates him to be grateful to the differences in pitch creating a hazy outline of the world.

There was a time when he could slice a falling leaf along the center vein blindfolded and it is not so different now. The air speaks to him from stone walls and their tapping acoustics, the sound from his knuckles shooting up and through and inside the great empty cavern in the center of the tower. Sometimes when this happens he almost feels like he can see everything at once, but then the vibrations fade and there is just a blind man in a forgotten hallway.

These are the times of silence, which are never truly so: the hollow drip of water from the ceiling and the empty gust of breathing. People forget that even when all the light is gone sound still remains, gasps and whispers of cloth, wet noises he only half recognizes in the back of his brain. He hears a voice in his dreams, saying, "Sing for me. Please, please, sing for me."

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah. But he keeps his mouth resolutely shut.

Fin.

11:55 PM

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

pet: (noun)
1. an object of the affections
2. a person especially cherished or indulged; favourite
3. an animal kept for amusement or companionship

I cried today. I cried for thirty minutes straight with James Blunt's 'Billy' on loop. I disgust myself.

11:05 PM

Saturday, January 12, 2008

mood: nostalgic

It's gonna be our 1-year anniversary in a ~~few days~~ matter of time. I'm not exactly sure why we met or even when we met. I can't remember the day you left or the days when you called to apologise. I don't know how I found a friend in someone so different or how we managed to fit.

If you were here I'd never have a fear.
So go on live your life.
But I miss you more than I did yesterday.
You're so far away.
So c'mon show me how.
'Cause I mean this more than words can ever say.

I guess this is an extremely belated apology. I wish I knew how to say sorry without having to rely on My Chemical Romance, though... you hated punk rock.

3:10 AM

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

My brother is sitting a few feet away from me, munching on raisin bread and playing Nintendogs. Not nearly as far away, lifeless, lies my duster. As usual, the duster seems more at home than my own flesh and blood.

Maybe because the duster doesn't scream "Motherf*cker!" every few seconds in a manner that makes me want to punch him right out of the window of our suite. No, that would be even more uncouth than his heinous misuse of Anglais. I don't think such unladylike violence is encouraged in Paris, especially not so close to Champ dé Élyseés.

Galliano might sue.

5:32 AM

As far as unproductive holidays go, my current venture should be in the Guinness Book of World Records. I have done nothing these past 4 days but :

a) eat tasteless veal escalope
b) photograph Parisian landmarks
c) sleep at ungodly hours
d) buy incredibly useless/expensive trinkets
e) tolerate Eminem's misogynistic prose
f) reread LKH's latest catastrophe, 'Lick of Frost'
g) procrastinate, procrastinate, procrastinate

The whole point of this European venture was to do some much-needed research for my novel. Where, pray tell, can you spy mere mention of 'research' in the above itinerary?

... my penchant for costly things and infinite laziness is positively disgusting.

5:07 AM

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

"We toasted one another with joie. It is a rare liquer distilled from flowers that blossom in the snowdrifts of the Camaeline Mountains and its taste is indescribable, at once cool on the palate and burning in the palate."

"Both wine and joie were flowing freely, and there was so much to see. Everywhere one turned, there was an array of fantastical figures: gods and goddesses, sprites, nymphs and demons, creatures out of story and legend, animals of all ilk. The masks lent a sense of abandon to the proceedings. One knew who one's companions were; and yet they were strange and unfamiliar, no longer themselves. It made one sense anything was possible."

Where's a masquerade ball when you need one, huh? Where's the goddamn alcohol?

12:38 PM

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Tonight, after over an hour and half of queuing behind Frenchmen/women with not an iota of propriety, I got to see My Chemical Romance in concert.

They were incredible. Absolutely smashing. Best thing since ice-cream. The sh*t.

*

I'm very happy right now.

12:35 AM

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Angst cereal. About as nutritious as pig slop, twice as foul, and full of undiluted self-loathing.

Why, then, do teenagers shovel it down their throats in great mouthfuls that seem to hinder the mortal reflex that is breathing and expect all the absolute garbage to somehow morph into something essential for the normality of their youthful cognition?

I don't know. I most certainly don't care (to some extent, naturally).

1:11 AM

Thursday, November 29, 2007

“This is what you do to me.”

*

The rapid beat of his heart thrums against my hand, a romantic gesture if not for the smothering cloak of regret hanging heavy on my weary shoulders. Our eyes meet, a sudden clash of brightest emerald and dull black, his eyes the only recognizable colour in this gray, gray world blurred by tears of shame.

“Je t'aime, mais vous soyez trop en retard.”

I love you, but you're too late.

*

His smile fades.

*

7:36 AM