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.


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.


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.


Wednesday, July 04, 2007

What should we eat for lunch? what should i wear tomorrow? in ocean of noise, win butler asked, "who here among us still believes in choice?"

how much choice do we really have? are our lives closer at heart to multiple choice tests than writing freeform poetry? if you're at gunpoint, and someone tells you to do something, sure it's easy to say you didn't have much of a choice. but how much options are there for the rest of us who don't have pistols on our heads? i have free will. that's one thing. but doesn't our fundamental need for self-preservation render whatever concept of choice we have in life merely cosmetic? even if all i had to plug this self-preserving trend was to die, how much of an option can you say that is? i counted - one.

i wish i could live a freeform poetry life. the kind of life whose paper by default has no lines, where the only predictable thing is inconsistent anarchy. but maybe i'm not ready to live that kind of life. maybe i wasn't created with the right infrastructure to handle an existence that has no guidance whatsoever, no models, no precedent, no narrowing down of possibilities. so what if i'm not entirely chuffed because every once in a while, all the possible options, including death, look like compromised solutions? maybe it's only because i'm an immature entity, unable to process the infinity that comes with a blank page.

maybe that's why i'm still checking boxes.

Labels: ,

Genusfrog [ 2:14 pm ]


Post a Comment

<< Home