time: 2:23pm
music: blowers' daughter - damien rice
mood: headache.
sat crossed on the floor when we moved in. this lil white room with some strange new friends. cricket picnics and sweet flavoured sins. stayed up too late and i'm too thin. we promised each other its til the end...now we're spinning empty bottles by the fireplace. laughing at each other till our faces turned red. its always just the four of us. he screams out and we laughed. and when she dances, she goes and goes. i bleed through the nose on an inside joke. i'm so excited, i haven't spoken. and she's so pretty, and she's so sure. but maybe i'm more clever than a girl like her. summer is all in bloom. summer is ending soon. it's alright. and it's nice not to be so alone, but i hold on to your secrets. in white houses..... maybe i'm a lil bit over my head. i come undone at the things he said. he's so funny in his bright red shirt. we were all in love and we all got hurt. sat back against the wind in black leathered seats. the smell of gasoline in the summer heat. boy, we're going way too fast. its all too sweet to last. its alright. and i put myself in his hands. but i hold on to our secrets .. in white houses...
love.......
or something ignites in my veins. and i pray it never fades. ..in white houses. loved. on a cloudy day, it's more common than you think. green blades grass and rainy sun shine. blinded unattached heartstrings. he was my first mistake. yes. i should say. he was my first mistake.
maybe you were all faster than me. we gave each other up so easily. with silly lil wounds we never meant, i feel so far from where i've been. so i go. and i will not be back here again. i'm gone as the day is fading .. on white houses. alive. with my injuries all in dust. in my heart, there's the four of us. in that white houses.
you..... maybe you remember me ?
what i gave is yours to keep.
in white houses.....
---
an adaptation, a projection, from carlton's white houses. a dreadfully aligned reminder of how it all used to be in white houses. lately, the past resembles much of graffiti of all the world's abundance possible. all and all drawn on soiled canvas atop each other. cracks between lines are stories of objectivity through multiplicity; documented and told in poetics of time and space. these stories are memories of stories demanding remembrance and creation with every fall in the hourglass. denied and we cease to exist. denied for the erasure of the ... real. intangibility seeks solace in memory, embedded in spectrum of nothingness and all. and when eyes are open, we acknowledge these collation of moments, of stories of memories. transience in its nature. intangible as they come.
---
on word: crazy ---- set-- go!
i was late this morning. i have been late for work since last .... well, lets just say, somewhere along the lines of these 20s (going on 21) hiatus, i lost my zest. it isn't like i woke up late. but i s'pose.... considering all the concurrent late nights and over exerted cluster visits... so i slow-mo-ed. sweetd, no longer hobbling btw, was already waiting for a gd 10mins. nine-six-nine ride was... a bus ride nonetheless. with the talking best friend of course. which was refreshing indeed. as opposed to stoning and slipping in and out of the abyss past yishun, sengkang and that super long expressway to tampines. sigh* such is my life.
i bade them all farewell. my boys. i bade them farewell. i have to abolish my humanitarian percept and disassociate myself. or i'll be stabbed once, twice, three times over. i bade them farewell. i bade them farewell. i wish we all could exchange emails or friendster accounts (ha-ha), but they are doing their time and ethically, it is just wrong. i shall miss the zzzzz* of the buzzer on the gates and the gdmorning-HALLO from the boys and ok.. the officers. above all, i shall miss how depressing A4-HU3 was and how it never fails to remind me of just how so lucky i am. i've been blessed. and for this i am syukur.
i have mentioned this before. massive weekends. i am super pening-ing now. i think duly coz of the ammounting workload. do you realise i never talk work now. i snapped at mama last night when she asked. i am sorry. i am just so tired. to add on, the doc just handed me three proposals to submit by monday. which means accelerated data collation and homework. marlies broders come to mind. ling! marlies is in my head!
so it's goodbye ME-time, hello paranoia. sunday and i'm hibernating with statistics. joy.
but til then... it's the 21st night tonight. lookin fwd to that yeah ?
happy 21st birthday surizah!
--
ok. data collation for now.
pening! pening! can someone answer the god damn phone!
