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To the sea
~or at very least the river that drifts him off to see the worldGunny. Aquarian II IF dark be the way, let light be the place. Nondescript. |
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FaNNed4Life Just the way I'm feeling. Lunch.eon move'd Allstar
TJ (mia)DILBERT Missings.
Creds
Design: doughnutcrazyIcon: morphine_kissed Yeah well. Thanks |
Seen 1/100th of my day-to-day scene?
The busstop benches lined with sleeping Indian workers. It's 2am, Xmas evening. I'm wide awake. The bus slugged around downtown and went up BT road, east end. It's a long way home, expect no less than another hour, maybe. Another hour of crowded solitude, burning eyes and bumpy iPhone text. Just what I need on a day like today, when you're all argumentative up in my head. At this hour, in this place, the words speak for themselves. The way they should and the way they always will, as far as my diction concerned. I don't even wanna think about why I'm twiddling my sore thumb over these dysfunct matters, but it's fast growing into one of those nagging earbugs chewing up my mind everytime it slip into fits of impulsive lust. My life is perfect, I'm not. I've got a lot of things to learn. It's a cold and frosty morning, beneath the relentless bus aircon and the winding roads that bear no end in sight. How little I know about you, and how little I can ever hope to. I don't need much, fuck I don't want no gold bars. You threw all of that out of the window, though. Just when gravity was finally starting to make sense in my world you had to chuck another moon into the equation. Not that I'm particularly drawn to its elliptical path, the strange elliptical path i can never quite chart, tides wash up my beaches now and then reminding me of the beautiful face circling all around my life, and my complement non-attempt to tie it down. None at all. I love the idea of you. I really shouldn't, but it keeps me up some days like a bittersweet migraine, running too deep down where all the veins meet. And I don't even know you. Now ain't that some shit? I've always prided myself on preserving an active imagination the city's been known to track down and kill in all the kids it raises. Now its giving me the finger then shoving it up my ass, turn right. A 'fuck you' as good as any. I don't even wish you were here anymore. I don't really want you, not as much as my idea of you. That's the hardest part, not letting go but losing heart. And everyone knows about it, from the hounds of England to the queen of hell. even myself. That's pretty much it. I'll toy around with my figment of imagination until something more demanding comes along and snaps my attention right away from this mental mess. Till then, I'll be this horny, but it'll go away somehow. Time does that to everything, even world piss. There's only so many ways I can make love with my hand. For now, merry Xmas. Been hearing your name way too much and way too close for comfort today. It's a seasonal thing. I'm home. -gun Circumspect
Suddenly, it occurred to me. What did i do this week?A lot of oasis and jack johnson. Research report about Scotland and ways she educate her children. PROM. Some basketball here and there. Late nights. Another late night. PK14. Watching tv with laoba. Another late night. SAM. Handburger. Home dinners. Funfunfun. Tiredtiredtired. Some solitude. Facebook photos. crazy talks. Refining conceptions of waffles. Guitar picks. Running out of cash. Bad money mgmt. Friend to Newcastle. Friend to Bintan. Friend off to china. Friends. Sis. Food. Bad body balance. Homeostasis. Better together. Stand by me. Lots of SMSes. PAP. No combination of words i can write on the back of a postcard. Staggering attention span. Running for the 9am. Where'd all the good people go? Arranging furniture. No laundry-.-Missing fats. Artfc from cambodia tomorrow. MSN. No time to watch freedom writers. Fridge. Dishwashing machine. Guitar. Alright. It's all coming back to me now. GOOD STUFF :D hot damn-.- Too easy to forget all the things i have when i'm on the a-train to the eye of your mind most nights. Stand by me, homies. Nobody knows the way it's gonna be~ Cheers, Gun Posterity
Of all things a monday morning can possibly speak of, I'm stuck in the bathroom listening to Pink Floyd. Not because I can't do anything else, but rather I don't much feel like it this early in the morning. And Floyd isn't something 'to do'. More like 'to be', perhaps. Listen close to the acoustic reverb in the London night sky, and I can make believe I'm down in O2 arena with 4799532 sweaty bodies pressed against, chanting unintelligible sounds and thinking strange thoughts. Nah, I'm in the hotel toilet instead, with all it's reproducible quirks and terrible sense of humor. Hell, how I wish, how I wish you were here. Not the bathroom but these lands in general. The one place on earth where even toilets harbor a melancholy beauty inexpressive of mere words. Well, yeah. Hello Monday, how ya doin'? Gotta head back into the world now, what with guns&roses are screaming up my head alright. Cheers, Gunny Microsoft excel and the twilight fountain
Two things that were always there but eluded my notice until moments ago.we learn something new everyday~ So yeah, where do i start. How about...whatever i wrote yesterday-.- Right now, I don't believe that anybody feels the way i do about you now. But you know and i know that's just bull. More like me praying damn hard no one feels the way i do, else there'll be some serious kick-ass wtfbbq consequences the likes of cuban revolutionaries on warpath; Not a pretty sight for the rest of the world, in other words. But that's ok. Train hard, get into the rhythm, buy clothes (woah wtf-.-) and prepare for the highlands :D yay that'll bound to take my mind off things. Plus i need some sleep, so there you go. Actually, I don't believe that anybody feels the way i do about anything at all, really. then again, how can i be sure? Why can't glastonbury be a scot place D: tread lightly. -Gunny joy to the world
I dunno why, but things she does bring a smile to my weary country lane, cloudy as it gets on days like today.I'll move mountains if i see one, i'll ride winds if i hear one, but never will i fathom the abysmal weight behind the infectious laugh in those words. They are but words, words with a beautiful ephemeral touch however. A quality that seems so cheerfully whimsical but inexplicably melancholy at the same time, a nagging reminder i'll never feel the same way the next time i read it. I don't need much; just some nice cooked food, some clean folded clothes, and a bedspread to top it all off. Sometimes, though, i wish you were here. That'd be nice. On an aesthetic and intuitive level of course, considering the problems my little brother will have against a girl in my room. I keep tellin' myself, I keep tellin' myself. You've got a reason to live. Burberry acoustic always induces a certain calm in me. Ironic how cress marketing brings itself down on the good folk musicians the world over and blurs their good intentions. That don't matter though, as long as it brings something into this desert. Life is good here in the arms of my little oasis. What you don't have now will come back again. You've got heart, and you're going your way. Please do, my friend. you have your life to live and me mine. maybe someday it'll come back again. -Gunny 静
What is it that you seek, if you left all the world to find it? *crackle* ----- -the beginning- 乌鸦说: 我飞了很远, 才飞到这个地方 电线杆没有回答. 午夜的城市也没有回答. 街道依然空无一人, 路灯依然一片泛黄. 乌鸦问: 这里...到底是哪里? 这里似乎不是它想象中的地方. 一片寂静. 是电线杆和午夜的城市的寂静, 是喧嚣耳语后的寂静. 乌鸦没听过的寂静. 还是没有回答. 乌鸦凝视着远处的某个地方很久, 似乎在琢磨什么. 拍了拍翅膀, 它飞走了. 电线杆没有说什么. 午夜的城市也没有说什么. 街道依然空无一人, 路灯依然一片泛黄. 我上路了. ----- -the silence- 是那样的一个夜晚. 我握着方向盘, 想着关于乌鸦之类的事, 眼前的国道一片茫然, 整齐的街灯欢迎我消耗油钱. 真是安静得不得了, 连加速器旁边的的表也不再挑衅了. 或许是放弃了也说不一定. 或许它也睡了. 毕竟, 整个世界此刻都沉睡着. 方圆几十里的田野一片漆黑, 没有丝毫动静. 确切地说, 是这边的世界都沉睡着. 那边的世界此刻应该正带着弹药和残存的晓梦迎接眼前的现实, 如此现实的现实. 又要准备血拼了, 我好像听得见那遥远的生命在命运的暗巷里尖叫. 可是这里跟那边的悲剧似乎隔着一个世界, 我从来不知道什么打仗之类的事. 是某个无名战场上用手机录下来的刑法么? 还是国际会议上西装笔挺的割喉战? 我无法想象. 总之, 声音在这个地方不存在. 能听到的仅是我的气息, 和某深处隐隐流动的脉搏. 好像是大地的意识. 哦不, 是从那城市带来的头疼吧. ----- -the reverb- 十月中旬的深夜, 究竟是哪一天我记不起来, 也不怎么想记起来. 说实话, 这里的哪天还不都是这样. 最近睡得很少, 想得很多. 或许是那深夜, 或许是仓促而过的一年, 九月后那些飘荡而去的日子突然使我手足无措. 生活的惯性拽着我一步, 一步迈向未知的未来. 我不确定那是我想要的未来, 但以目前看来似乎无力反抗. 但现在至少有了这台破车让我拉着它走; 手握着方向盘, 脚踩油门, 就能把车开到遥远的什么地方. 这样的自由是一种安慰. 但仅仅是一种安慰罢了. 眼前笔直的国道依然笔直. 我除了那未知的未来还能往哪儿开? 我不可能回去了. 地球不停地转, 我却依然在那所谓没有鱼的汪洋里兜圈子. 我看不到什么, 什么也看不到我. 残月下的追忆也不过是国道上无尽的旅程; 去哪里不重要, 能离开这里就行了. 世界尽头的地平线嘲弄着我的狼狈, 其实也没有什么. 因为我对那没有任何打算. 寂静里的旅程就是我一个人的, 是这么的孤独. 有时候我想, 要是能和什么朋友一起孤独地旅行, 应该是不错的一件事. 但世界是这样的现实, 迷离的深夜又是这样的执着, 在那一场场肉搏战里, 也只能踩着倒下的兄弟们往前死命地冲刺. 谁不跟着地球一起转, 就是一死. 路上的我还活着.或许是只得庆祝的, 但我也感觉不到什么. 寂静是孤独的. 麻木也是孤独的. 幸好是令人舒服的麻木. 能在这路上奔驰, 即使只是一味直线的奔驰, 也是我的荣幸. 能逃离那段对白, 或许也是我最开心的事. 我除了任凭着寂静扯着嗓子却无声地咆哮, 果然也做不了什么. 在这寂静里孤独地走下去, 路途是那么的遥远, 但有了无声的世界上撑着我的自负, 也没什么好担心的. 毕竟, 我一向都是这么来的. 所谓的自尊, 说起来也或许可笑. 但至少, 它扶着我而不让我跌倒. ------ -the same but separate sky- 如果你也注意的话, 黑夜或许没有那么的黑. 有时候其实是红的. 也许是晨曦的前兆吧, 也许是洗不尽的血泊. 也许..是暮夕的遗恨也说不一定. 一样的月光照着我们掌心, 我们分隔两地的掌心. 我们即使是零距离, 也活在两个不同的空间. 你说的那些什么, 我听不到. 但我说的那些什么, 希望你能听得到. 哦, 不. 听不到最好. 其实是路上的咆哮罢了, 依然无声的咆哮. 你听不到最好. 毕竟, 我的路还远着呢. ----- -the end- 乌鸦说: 我飞了很远, 才飞到这个地方 稻草人没有回答 午夜的麦田也没有回答. 这是另一个世界, 依然无声. 乌鸦问: 这里...到底是哪里? 它连自己的话语都不怎么听得见了. 一片寂静. 是深处什么地方的寂静. 乌鸦没听过的寂静. 还是没有回答. 乌鸦凝视着远处的某个地方很久, 似乎在琢磨什么. 拍了拍翅膀, 它飞走了. 稻草人没有说什么. 午夜的麦田也没有说什么. 这是另一个世界; 没有声音, 也不需要声音的世界 ------ -the road- 路途依然遥远, 夜幕依然泛红. 远处的某个地方, 乌鸦似乎飞向了地图的尽头. 其实我也不确定那是不是乌鸦. 但是在这个地方, 除了乌鸦我也不认识别人. 除了乌鸦我也不知道有谁存在 后来, 我发现那的确是乌鸦. 因为我此后再也没有见到它. *mute* What is it that I seek, you ask? Alas, the silence that will set me free. 他的国, 在这个世界上不存在. void
I dunno if anyone still reads the stuff written on this disembodied fragment of my imagination.Hmm, if only I could see me now. It's been a while since I last wrote anything of personal value on any medium. Not that I don't have much to write about (quite the contrary, in fact), but rather schooling gets in the way of expression, and i can't find the right words nor circumstance to explain myself most times. It certainly does has an effect on my psyche, for sure. For one, I've grown strangely detached to me, and sometimes it just doesn't feel right, as if my insides consume itself for sustenance by day, and regenerates quietly by night. The void is sometimes palpable, and by the time i get off the bus home i can hardly breathe, not to mention a peace of mind. Everyone has a void. Some fill it with porn, some with education. Others do it with hegelian analysis, marxist narratives, junk food, or perhaps heavy metal and sushi. But mostly sushi. I have my own void to deal with, but as it is the case with any other voids, the inadequacy of words sunders all possibility of anyone else knowing what it remotely comprises. Conceive the inconceivable; now i can't tell you what it really is, i can only tell you what it feels like, and right now it feels like a windpipe in my knife. That windpipe in my knife which feels like it's still drawing air and struggling to take the breath it always did. But that don't matter. Not at all. It'd be dead soon anyway. Once upon a time i'd have thought this a great achievement, something of cosmic proportions, even. But it seems like having a non-void puts more dentures in the broken windpipe than it can hope to remove. Just as being a cold-blooded mofo doesn't do the mofo too good in the long run. Not feeling much about anything at all may serve well the Kafka on his shore, but not the gunman in his apartment. The gunman is but a man. Kafka is a crow. --------- Life is not literature. But literature comes from and only from life. It's 11 Sept; MAF. Now, where do i even start. That's the problem, you see. I can't even start to explain myself. If you stare hard enough at the passing clouds, you'd realise they move pretty fast. Much faster than you'd thought they possibly can. I have my heart in the reign of lovely clouds. That which seems endlessly perpetual but are inevitably ephemeral, and i'm not even offering any normative judgement here. coitum animal triste. That's the immense void one is tossed into after orgasm. That's the void i kind of felt today. I felt my void again. And with that came the need to fill it. That's where this piece of writing comes in. If it gets down to this, well, MAF(FOCO)'11 is no more. It'll live on in our hearts, minds, winpipes and whatnot, but it is dead, as dead as it can be. When i tossed the venom in my comrades' smiling faces. That's when it hit me in the gut. And it hurt. It really did. I just had to pull that shit and fuck up their day. When the lights went down for the last time, I know i lost the moment. I seized it by the throat and wrangled it to painful death by my bear hands. The only ones you can ever hurt, as always, are the only ones who'd trust you enough to let themselves hurt. That's the worst thing in the world, apart from from the startling realisation that peanuts are vegetable not fruit. Pain is however arbitrary, and for that I'm really am glad, though. It reminded me how much i needed the void. For having it implies needing to fill it, and if i don't ever get down to that existence will drift back into an island in the sea. It's gotten to the point where i'm beginning to feel deeply relieved at the presence of any one of them. And, at that, i can't be a dick anymore. I can't afford to. That is, btw, how the whole detachment thing arised from. I can't bear losing them again. When i wake up tomorrow, it's gonna be a sunday afternoon. I'll probably hit up the library and study some, then fall asleep somewhere and eat home dinner before falling asleep again. But whatever happens, the void is always there watching my every move. But i'll have them on my back. At least i think i do. That is enough, though. Ain't it. Pardon my tragic inability to put the simplest things into the simplest words. While you're at it, pardon my planet too. .. wth. Yupp foco, I love you. Now ain't that a kick in the head. -------- It's 12 Sept MAF+1. Nothing changes. Fill my void. Feel it too. With all due gratitude and apology, With all the vagaries of all the gin joints in all the world, With all the things i can never quite put into words, Cheers, Gunny~ PS. Now we may be the most reserved subcomm with the least pictures/talk of the town, but nothing superficial can cramp that which is deep down within. Howdy. |