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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
Monday, October 01, 2007
It's been blustery. it drizzles most of the time and rains when it doesn't. the sky is an indecipherable grey. like candy floss that forgot how to be candy.
on the road, there are puddles and the grass is sloshy. from my desk, i can see a distant hill, and it's a grey-green. i wonder, if i painted that hill, what colours would i mix to get that colour? it's so drab. almost as drab as the sky. and everywhere, over everything, there seems to hang this cloak of melancholy. a rainy day laziness that makes you think about life and the past.
i remember a comparable evening in melbourne. i drove down royal parade between rows of fiery autumn trees. the sky was dull. that drab melbournian autumn sky. and as i drove under those trees, the leaves started falling on my car.
all the leaves are brown. and the sky is grey.
and here i sit. older. changed. in an entirely different world. the people around me are different. but the thoughts in my head are the same. i'm thinking that i love this landscape. this windy place with its watercolour finish.
i love these rainy days.
Labels: growing old, melancholy
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