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BLOGGER
Youngest kid of six with an inferiority and black sheep complex, but determined that God saves not just his soul to heaven but the remainder of his manic-depressive life, so others won't say he became a Christian and remained a jerk.
MAIN THEMES
On identity i won't be transparent before i'm opaque. and you'll get to know me starting from the small things: who my favourite bands are. what kind of movies i like. who are my heroes. On Christianity I’m convinced that when confronted with sincere, real love, the Jesus factor will become obvious. But let’s not plant the cross before we carry it. I’m not trying to con you. On dreams Some dreams are meant to be achieved. I know that. But maybe other dreams are meant to drive us, privately. Never known to anyone but ourselves.
OTHER THEMES
On melancholy It is a sadness that, when choosing between crying and sighing, will choose sighing. I'd almost say that melancholy is being sad about sadness itself. On memory and nostalgia It saddens me when life moves forward and people decide that certain things are worth forgetting. On language I've learnt that the word irregardless is filed as a non-standard word in the English language. That's a lexicographer's way of saying it's not a real word. On politics Crowds are fickle things. So when we stand in the thousands and cry against the present government, do we know who we're actually crying for? On society People always want the best for themselves. But I want to sometimes take second or third or fourth best, just so that the loser down the road doesn't always have to come in last. It must feel like shit to always come in last. On growing old Leasehold property make me feel sad. It doesn't matter how old the family photos are that you put on your wall. It's your family but it's not really your wall. On philosophy I ask you, if God loves everyone, and if God is also incapable of loving evil, how can there be such a thing as an evil man? On a daily basis One line quips, like this. CHAT
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Thursday, May 03, 2007
 QUE SERA SERAAs you grow up, you learn to make calls. you learn to say i want this, i want that, and this is how it should be. and so you keep growing and growing, and you keep making more calls and more calls. and then somewhere at the start of the middle of your life, you forget how to make calls. all the i want thises and i want thats become i don’t know what i wants. all the this is how it should bes become is this how it should bes. when you grow up, you forget how to make simple calls. i didn’t say i wanted to have sadness follow me. maybe i wasn’t listening closely. maybe they said something meaningful between the ad breaks when i was chasing commercials somewhere else. i missed the part where they teach you how to make the hard calls. the jesus and mary chain said in psychocandy that “there’s something dead inside my hole”. i feel like that every day, that in this empty shell, i’ve put to sword the last few shreds of my youthful optimism. maybe it’s the beginning of the end for my brash twentysomething gunghoism. when they told me at new life that the old has gone and the new has come, maybe they didn’t know that the old that went was a cock-eyed optimist with a heart on each sleeve, slain in the name of love and a future. maybe they didn’t know that the new that came was a tired, wounded shadow of his former self, more content conversing with fatalism than jesus christ himself. he’s come full circle. he’ll go circle again. wait and see. wait and see the future. the what’s in store for me. pop philosophy has never been shy dealing with the wait and see. i was in a karaoke room two days ago, lying on the couch and staring at the ceiling as the cock-eyed optimist got crucified once more, ripped from the middle and left to die staring into a useless pale sky of dim karaoke lights. and while i stared at this ugly ceiling, pop philosophy churned out one of its finest theses yet. que sera sera. whatever will be will be. lodged somewhere between the right-most end of predestinative calvinism and the left-most end of meaningless nihilism was this little pop gem: que sera sera. maybe that’s one way of saying we won’t have rainbows day after day. maybe it’s a rose-tinted way of preaching the gospel according to psychocandy. that when they say whatever will be will be, they’re actually saying that something will die inside my hole. Labels: defeat, growing old Genusfrog [
10:00 pm ]
 
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